


Granger Weasley Malfoy

by sapphirephoenix



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: hermione_smut, F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-27
Updated: 2016-05-27
Packaged: 2018-07-10 15:41:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 46,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6991789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphirephoenix/pseuds/sapphirephoenix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>Summary:</b>  Hermione’s a grown woman who knows what she wants… or does she?</p><p>My submission for the 2015 hermione_smut fest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** The characters and canon situations in the following story belong solely to JK Rowling, Scholastic and WB. I am not making any money from the publishing or writing of this story.

_Saturday  
20 September, 2025_

With a stretch and a groan, forty-six year old Hermione Granger awoke surrounded in sumptuous bedding. Her body ached from an equally sumptuous shagging the night before. She couldn’t help but smile.

It had been a very late night sneaking out to her lover’s bed after her birthday celebration with family and friends. She stretched again, feeling her body quiver against satin sheets. Hermione slid her cheek against the cool pillow case and chuckled to herself.

A fine way to start her forty-sixth year, indeed.

The bedroom door opened and shut with a quiet ‘click’. It was well away from her, as the bed was quite far from the bedroom door. Hermione rolled to see who was coming in.

She chuckled again.

Draco Malfoy, aged forty-five, was quite fit, and he carried a full tray of breakfast nibbles. He was standing perfectly still as if stunned.

Hermione lifted her hand and teased it over the curve of her hip and between her breasts. Her fingertips tickled her neck before she pushed her fingers into her hair shaking it softly. All the while she let her eyes sweep down Draco’s body. They lingered over his shoulders down his navel and landing at last at his cock. She watched smiling as it grew hard beneath his sleeping trousers. Hermione loved looking at Draco Malfoy: he had matured into a masculine beauty.

After a while she met his gaze and licked her lips. His pale cheeks flushed pink but he didn’t waver. He had a strong, if pointy, jawline. His lips were berry-red and perfectly shaped. His flint-grey eyes caught her attention and his alabaster skin just cried out to be caressed. Even Draco’s hair was fine to the touch despite having thinned out a bit at the top.

Never breaking eye contact, Hermione rolled to her back and stretched once more. She stroked her hands over her breasts and belly, letting her mouth fall open when her hands met at the top of her thighs.

When she blew a kiss across the room, the silverware on the tray Draco was carrying rattled. That seemed to break the spell, and he moved forward again.

He set the tray on the table beside the bed before reaching for her ankle. He pulled her so that her hips met his, and her thighs spread wide before him.

“It’s not my birthday anymore. You didn’t have to bring me breakfast.” Hermione watched Draco as his eyes drank in her body. He made her feel so sexy when he looked at her like this.

His hands slid down her thighs, and he began to smooth his thumb over her cunt. “You make me as randy as I was before my marriage, Granger.” His thumb was warm on her sensitive flesh, and she hummed when it disappeared inside of her. Draco looked her in the eye a moment before he watched his thumb slide in and out, again and again.

Hermione began to rock her hips in rhythm with him. They both knew it was not enough but she liked to let him do as he pleased: he’d earned it after so many years with his frigid ex-wife.

Hermione could not imagine marrying someone and not wanting to shag at every turn, especially in the beginning.

Newly pardoned from his abysmal marriage Draco needed a woman with whom he could… _experiment_. Hermione was more than happy to oblige; he was an absolute poppet in the bedroom.

Draco moved his free hand to press his fingers into her thigh as he reached for her ankle once more. His fingers could wrap all the way around it making her feel so… petite. His thumb pumped into her a few more times and then he lifted her ankle spreading her apart. “I could shag you all day,” he whispered. Two fingers went inside her.

Hermione moaned arching her back.

He was still watching his fingers, exploring her with dedicated focus. Draco moved her leg so her knee bent, and he leaned over her as her ankle moved toward her head a bit.

The angle pressed his fingertips into a _very_ sensitive area deep inside her. “Dra-co!” she cried out her fists pounding the mattress. She keened, and it brought a smile to his face.

Draco rubbed her there again and again until her body was quivering. She felt his grip on her tighten, his fingers moving faster as her body squeezed around him.

Hermione hooked her free leg around his arse, bucking as her orgasm crested.

When her body calmed, Draco pulled his fingers from her and brought them to his lips. Hermione watched as he licked his fingers clean. He spread her legs once more and folded his body over hers.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

He kissed her shoulder and nipped the skin of her neck. “Breakfast,” Draco replied as he pushed away from the bed once more. Standing he adjusted his cock in his sleep trousers. Then he turned back to the breakfast tray.

This was her true birthday celebration: Draco feeding her fresh berries and cream and teasing her body all day. All Hermione had to do was allow him to do as he willed - all to her pleasure.

* * *

_Sunday_

Despite spending all day in bed with Draco, or perhaps because of that, Hermione had but one thing on her mind when she woke up Sunday. It involved sucking Draco’s cock as long and as well as he had licked her quim the night before.

She awoke before he did and used the time to her advantage. After a quick trip to the loo, Hermione crawled back into bed and began. She rubbed her body against his, curling around him so she could stroke his chest and thighs. Her attention was split between making sure he was waking up in the nicest way possible and trying to make his member as stiff as she could.

Once his breathing had changed and she knew he was awake, Hermione moved to kneel between Draco’s legs. She began licking him all over his knob and between his balls. Hermione knew that if she got him excited enough, he would start to wriggle and his hips would fuck the air.

She loved to watch him do that, to be so overcome with the sensual moment. Hermione teased Draco as long as she could. When they both seemed to be at their breaking point, she kissed the tip of his cock and smoothed her lips around the head.

She had just got the tip past her lips when the bedroom door was thrown open. A young man burst into the room his demeanour every bit the next snobbish Malfoy. “Father I must speak–” He froze after a few steps. “So it’s true then.”

Draco was laying on his back. The duvet pushed haphazardly to the floor. His legs were spread in preparation of Hermione bobbing over his hard cock. Hermione was nude, as well - hadn’t worn clothes at all since Friday night. She was on her hands and knees, tits hanging and thighs spread as she worked to push her lips down Draco’s shaft.

“Scorpius. Hyperion. Malfoy,” Draco seethed.

The effect was undermined, though, by the loud ‘pop’ that sounded when his cock came free of Hermione’s lips.

In a flash, Draco whipped the sheet from beside him on the bed covering Hermione in an elegant move. He found a corner of the sheet four himself before turning to stand and face his son. Hermione sat back on her heels kneeling on the bed. She had never actually met Scorpius before this moment.

His parents had stayed married until he finished Hogwarts, and after the divorce, he stayed where he liked, the little prince that he was.

She looked at him as he looked at her: her eyes took a measure of his form as she considered all that she had heard. He was so much like his father but also so… free of all that his father had been tethered by.

“Out,” Draco declared after taking a moment to compose himself.

Hermione jumped a bit where she was on the bed. Scorpius’s reaction was much more refined. Pure Malfoy. He bowed his head and stepped back turning toward the door.

Hermione watched him leave, her curiosity absolutely piqued.

As the door clicked shut once more Draco turned to her. “I cannot apologise enough.”

Hermione’s skin felt hot. “Don’t be silly. I didn’t even realise he was home. I would have been less… vocal.” She moved toward him, ready to start up once more. “Do you think he heard me all yesterday screaming like a banshee?”

As she moved, though, she noticed his… enthusiasm had waned. That would not do. Hermione leaned forward to lap at the head of Draco’s cock until it twitched a bit. She looked up at Draco who was still glaring at the door. She licked her lips and tugged the sheet away from Draco.

It fell to the floor atop the duvet.

Hermione sucked the fat head through her lips and teased the hole with the tip of her tongue. 

“Hermione, really I’m so sorry.”

She stood and wrapped her arms around his neck to pull herself up to kiss him. “It’s nothing, Draco.”

Draco melted into her kiss, devouring her in short order. His arms went around her, and he sat on the bed, pulling her on top of him. Hermione wasted no time in climbing over his prick, pushing it deep into her.

They both groaned.

She wondered if Scorpius was still behind the door listening. She shivered and redoubled her efforts to fuck Draco. He reached up and pulled her nipples a bit. Hermione loved it.

She fell forward pressing her breast over Draco’s mouth. He sucked it and smoothed his tongue over her nipple. She let him have it for a moment before pulling away to switch sides. Her breasts slapped his face softly when she did.

It was more than Draco could handle, and he grabbed her hips to push her down on his cock. Hermione let him fuck her. They’d done this enough times for her to know that this was his breaking point.

Soon he was shouting, shooting off inside her. Their rhythm became lopsided.

Draco pulled her close once more and kissed her neck. They laid like that for a few long minutes. Hermione caught her breath. Once his softened cock slid from her, though, they pulled apart.

Hermione realised she was quite hungry. Just as she opened her mouth to say so her belly rumbled.

“Granger, you beast. I’d best feed you,” Draco said. He grabbed his wand and cleaned them up closing the drapes around his bed. Then, he rang a bell to have the house-elf bring them a proper breakfast.

* * *

When Hermione next saw Scorpius it was after he’d been properly told off by his father. She saw him well before he saw her. He was furious, defensive and skulking around Draco’s sprawling country ‘cottage’.

She was sitting in a courtyard on a divan, reading one of Malfoy’s books on the legal rights of Magical Creatures. That was how it had all got started. Malfoy and his private libraries.

As his father would, Scorpius was wearing summer robes, well-tailored and fashionable. He cut a fine figure, reminding her of an actor who might be employed to portray Draco in a biography or some such.

Hermione, personally, preferred denims on a casual day like today, and Draco preferred her in halter tops which showcased her… endowments. She felt a bit like a fashion model in a magazine when she lazed around his estate, dressed to please him.

She watched Scorpius from over top of her book and smiled when he finally noticed her.

He was obviously smarting from his conversation from his father and sneered at her. “ _Mrs_ Weasley. My father wishes that I extend every welcome and honour to you as a guest in my family home.” He even bowed. Then he muttered, “Not that I’d go as far as my father would.”

Hermione replied, “Thank you Mr. Malfoy. I doubt you _could_ welcome me as well as your father has. I won’t count it against you.” With a wink, she returned to her book.

Scorpius stilled. “I assure you I most certainly could if I were so inclined.”

“I’m sure, dear,” Hermione said without another glance at the young man.

Either Scorpius had no idea what to do with this situation or he felt relaxed enough to not shield his reaction from her. She almost wished Draco were here to see this.

She didn’t look up again until a shadow crossed over her book.

“I have it on authority that my father is… unsatisfactory in some ‘courtesies’.”

Hermione craned her neck and looked closely at Scorpius once more. His arms were crossed and he was looking down his nose at her, quite literally.

She couldn’t imagine what it was like to be a child of divorced parents. She swallowed. “I wouldn’t dream of contradicting such an authority, but you have been witness to the contrary.”

How else to better say _your mum is lying; your father’s a fantastic shag_?

Scorpius blushed. It spread down his neck and behind his ears. Then his tongue darted across his lips, and he said, “I would do better.”

Closing her book Hermione twisted and stood up from the divan. They were standing quite close. She let him look over her body as much as he could. “If you insist.” Her words were soft, almost inaudible.

She watched his Adam’s apple twitch before stepping away. Before she could blink her back was against a stone pillar, her wrists were above her head, and a strong thigh was between hers.

Scorpius was holding her in place, panting as if he’d just run a league at a full sprint. His face looked as though he’d just ‘borrowed’ his father’s finest racing broom without his permission. He was thrilled and terrified.

Hermione smiled but relaxed into what was happening. “You’d like to fuck me into this wall. Is that right _Scorpius_?”

His hands began to sweat on her wrists. His pupils dilated.

“You think you can make me scream?”

Scorpius’s hold tightened. “I know it.”

“So why don’t you touch me?” Hermione smiled and turned her head to the side. In the shadows, she saw Draco.

His eyes caught the light, and she blew him a kiss. Then an awkward, too-strong grip was on her breast and a sloppy aggressive tongue was on her neck.

Scorpius began to rut against her.

All the while Hermione and Draco looked at each other. She knew that he was a jealous man, but he didn’t want to own her. Being watched by him made her moan, and Scorpius redoubled his effort.

Soon enough his hips jerked against hers, and ‘Mrs Weasley’ fell from his lips.

He’d come in his trousers, fully-dressed. Hermione reached up to push sweaty hair back from his forehead. She smiled at him. She found herself unpinned from the wall; Scorpius was now bracing himself just to stand up instead.

She kissed his cheek and ducked away.

At the table next to the divan Hermione poured herself some ice water and drank it down. She turned to give Scorpius some privacy.

Draco was gone from the courtyard.

When Scorpius had cleaned himself up, he turned to look at her. She could feel his eyes on her. Then a quiet but panicked “Shite!” began a slew of profanity.

“Problem, Mr Malfoy?”

“There’s a love bite on your neck! I cannot believe this just happened! My father is going to have my cock.”

Hermione smiled.

Taking up her wand she twisted it three times and then tapped her neck, Disillusioning the bruise.

“That’s dead brilliant,” Scorpius whispered. He looked just like her nephew Albus when she mended what he’d broken as a child: deep relief showed plain his face.

Hermione filled her glass once more and sat again.

Scorpius watched her.

“I really do need to read this. It’s for a meeting on Tuesday.”

Scorpius nodded but didn’t leave.

“Isn’t there something you’d rather be doing?” Hermione settled back opening her book once more.

“I was going to go do some laps on my broom…”

Hermione smiled. “Very well.” She returned to her book began to read back a bit.

Scorpius lingered a few moments but he took the hint soon enough. Malfoys were good for that sort of thing. Hermione returned to her reading, enthralled by it all afternoon. When it finally became too dark to read in the courtyard, Hermione packed up and headed home. She had a busy week ahead of her.


	2. Chapter 2

_Saturday  
27 September, 2025_

Dinner the following week was a muted affair in a mausoleum of a dining room. She'd never even been in the room before tonight, and the formal table startled her. Draco and Scorpius sat at either end, and Hermione found herself sitting at the midway point. Casual conversation was impossible. The three ate in silence, Hermione keeping her eyes primarily on the floral arrangement in front of her.

Hermione hadn't really thought about what had happened with Scorpius, determined as she was to get through the most boring – not to mention racist – legal book she'd read in some time. Her presentation and proposal regarding the laws in said book had consumed her entire week, and she’d worked nearly eighty hours over the course of that week.

When, at last, the sorbet dishes were cleared from the table, Draco stood. Hermione stood, opening her mouth to speak, but Draco turned his head toward Scorpius and wished him good night before she could say anything. Draco walked to Hermione and placed his hand at Hermione's lower back to usher her from the room.

They walked down the hall in silence. It seemed to Hermione that not even their footfalls sounded. She was about to pinch herself, to make sure she wasn't in a bizarrely lucid dream, when they entered Draco's bedroom. He shut the door quietly, then, Hermione found her back pressed against the carved wooden panels.

"I am not ready to discuss what happened last weekend. All I want right now is to see you naked, bent over my knee."

Hermione looked up at him, trying to look innocent.

She licked her lips. "Are you going to spank me for being naughty?"

"Spanking is only the beginning." Draco turned his body just enough for her to slip away.

She darted across the room, pulling her clothes off as quickly as she could. Draco had never spanked her before. Over the months they'd been doing this, he'd been an absolute dear. He made her come, explored her body, and fucked her like a man who didn't want to go too far.

If spanking were to be ‘just the beginning,’ Hermione could not guess what would follow.

Just thinking about it made her wet. As she was about to climb on the bed, she saw Draco moving to the other side. Hermione paused, watching him strip away his clothes.

His eyes ran over her body again and again. Once he was nude, he removed all but two pillows from the bed. He propped one against the headboard, and moved to sit against it.

Hermione watched as he grabbed his cock, tugging a bit before beckoning her to him. She crawled onto the bed and over his lap. He stroked his free hand across her back and down her arse. Then, he slapped it.

Hermione gasped, moaning a bit.

"Not another sound from you." Draco sneered. "Bury your mouth in that pillow if you must be so lewd, Granger."

She felt his hand on the back of her thigh, pulling one leg away from the other. Hermione smiled at him and nodded. Two greedy hands moved all over her body. She felt pressed and pulled and pinched. She felt drunk, and her pussy became quite slick.

Draco spanked her again.

Hermione pursed her lips tightly, but still she squeaked. Another slap on her rump, harder, and Hermione grabbed the pillow and buried her face in it.

"There's a good girl," Draco said, petting her once again. He adjusted her hips so she was face-down, bent over his thigh. Her arse was relatively high in the air, and she felt so wanton.

Hermione moaned into the pillow. Then, Draco stopped touching her with his hands completely.

She wriggled a bit, her heart pounding in her chest. She couldn't guess what he would do, but she didn't want to peek, either. After a long moment of waiting, Hermione felt something cold and smooth on her labia, and she spread her thighs a bit.

Draco had said he had more prezzies for her from her birthday; she hoped this was one of them. It felt as though he were rolling a ball up and down her slit, and it didn't stay cool for long. Getting caught up in work last week, as well as the curiosity of having Scorpius in the house, had abbreviated their weekend.

Draco cleared his throat. "Such a juicy cunt, Granger. You want to get fucked all the time don't you?"

Hermione tried to leverage her hips into whatever he was holding, but she didn't say a word.

Her move made Draco laugh softly, and he grabbed one side of her arse, pulling her cheeks apart. He rolled the ball up toward her arsehole, and back down to her clit. Finally, he teased her opening with it. It didn't slide in easily. He teased it in and out, stretching her opening.

Hermione moaned into her pillow.

When it pushed into her at last, it was Draco's turn to moan. He loved watching her take things into her pussy. He pushed two fingers in after the ball, pushing it inside of her even deeper.

Hermione spread her thighs as much as she could. That earned her a gentle slap on the arse, and she felt the ball start to vibrate inside her. As usual, Draco knew exactly how to please her.

"I knew you'd like this, Granger. Shall I pull it out again?" This was, it seemed, a rhetorical question. He removed his fingers from her, and began to tease the ball back. It was the opposite of what he had done in the beginning.

It must be a spell, she half-thought, whining when the ball left her.

That's when Draco spanked her again, hard. "Be discreet, Granger. Do you think everyone in this house wants to hear you scream?" But the ball was back at her opening.

Draco hooked one fingertip inside her hole, and the ball rolled past her tight entrance again and again. In and out.

Hermione’s hips pushed back, away from his thighs and into the air in a fruitless search for more.

Draco let the ball go all the way in. Then, he grabbed each side of her arse, spreading her cheeks wide, and blew onto her pussy. His breath felt cold on her wet skin, and the ball grew just enough inside her to stretch her in earnest. He teased the ball back out of her.

She was certain it was too big, but Draco put his thumb over her clit, vibrating it almost as fast as the ball was quivering inside of her.

Hermione came hard, her body fucking back into nothing as it squeezed the ball from her vagina. Before she could miss it, Draco began to finger her pussy. Three thick digits fucked her. His other hand pulled at her nipples.

She loved every pinch and tug. Hermione bit into the pillow while her orgasm moved her. When she was finished, Draco pushed her hips away from him. She couldn't guess how he got there but the next thing she knew, she was pulled roughly onto his cock.

He was fucking her, slapping her arse with one hand, holding her at the shoulder with the other. Draco was frantic. He pounded into her, careless of anything else. When he came, it was with one last, hard slap on her very tender arse. He grunted, also trying to be quiet, she guessed. His hips did not quit right away, and he fucked her a bit as his cock softened.

Draco did not stop until his cock slid from her. He fell on the bed beside her, panting and sweating.

Hermione curled around the pillow, feeling his seed start to drip out of her stretched and deliciously sore cunt. She smiled. A glorious post-shag haze swept over her. She watched him fight to stay awake as he caught his breath.

Draco turned his head toward her. “Hermione.”

Her smile widened. He must be well spent if he was calling her that.

“Sleep with me tonight,” he muttered, trying to right his body in the bed. “Don’t look at me like that. I’ll explain in the morning.” Then, oddly, he pulled the sheet around his body and pulled her close.

Once settled, she was under his arm, wrapped as well in the sheet, which was quite unlike him. It was very comfortable and quite secure when his arm came across her back. She tried not to worry about what the next day would bring. Hermione relaxed and let her body sink into his. Although this was the first time he’d held her so close after a good shag, she found it quite easy to fall asleep secured in his embrace.

* * *

   
 _Sunday_

Waking up alone was jarring. It shouldn’t have been, Hermione knew, because she knew that Draco was a very early riser, so he was never in bed with her when she woke up. However, last night she had fallen asleep with her head on his chest.

She shook her head to clear her thoughts and stretched. This morning her body felt every one of its forty-six years. From a chair by the wardrobe, she heard a voice.

“Will you stay here today?”

Hermione was groggy. There was no need to stay. Draco had a business meeting in Scotland after breakfast.

“Wha-?” she started to ask, rising from the bed. She put her feet on the floor and found, however, walking was not so easy.

He’d fucked her legs out from under her.

Hermione flinched as she staggered toward where Draco sat. He moved his cup of tea and pulled her into his lap. The fine robes under her arse made her feel scandalous. She wriggled in his lap a bit, but Draco was all business.

With an arm clamped over her thighs, he began to speak in quiet voice. “Seeing you with my son was a very… informative event. My initial reaction was of possession. He was touching something of mine. Also, jealousy: Hermione Granger-”

“Weasley,” she interrupted.

Draco didn’t skip a beat. “-should be with me only. Where do you think that comes from?”

She rubbed some sleep out of her eye and took a breath to answer.

Draco hardly noticed. “As I said, _informative_. However, it was also quite gratifying that my son was so enticed by my sexual partner. That is a real feather in my proverbial cap. All the more gratifying because you came back to _my_ bed last night, instead of turning to his.

“You were also… radiant. Your defence of my prowess was incendiary. _I_ wanted to fuck you into that pillar. Your composure under the… peculiar circumstances was outstanding, Granger.

“Taking control last night has me feeling like a different man. Any concerns I had about this meeting are wiped clean. I will own Fitzpatrick, and he’ll have no idea. But I want you here, with Scorpius, while I’m gone. The adrenaline of this has been–”

“You _want_ me to fuck your son.”

“Absolutely not. But yes. Or rather, if you’re so inclined. Quite peculiar, indeed.” Draco took a deep breath and tucked a curl behind Hermione’s ear. “I cannot guess what nonsense he has been exposed to between his mother and his time in Hogwarts. He’s young. I remember being his age. I wanted to fuck all the time, but I had to be concerned about my marriage contract and I had to beware of unscrupulous witches, not to mention that I was still recovering from the war.

“I trust you, Granger. You’d tell him what you like or don’t like. You’d tell him what you want or don’t want. You’d help him learn about a woman’s body. No witch his age can do that.”

“So I’m a courtesan, now?”

“Do not play indignant with me. I know what you look like when you’re aroused, and you were quite aroused by being handled by Scorpius. As I said, you were radiant.”

Hermione took his cup of tea from him and took a sip. It was stronger than he usually made it. “I’ll make no guarantees, Draco. I really value our arrangement.”

“As do I, but there’s no going back. I will always wonder. Scorpius will _always_ want you until he has had his fill of you.”

“So, you’ll go to this meeting feeling jealous and possessive of me, assuming Scorpius has me bent over every antique in your house. You’ll return home, victorious, and ready to lay me out, as well? I do have other plans for my day.”

Draco smiled. “I hope those plans include working out why this idea has your décolletage flushed pink, Granger. Is it the idea of getting ploughed for longer than two minutes that has you in such bloom?”

Hermione frowned. Draco always came quickly with her, which she asserted was a mere product of their extended foreplay. He, however, assumed it was a failing of his manhood. “Scorpius didn’t even bother to drop trou, if you recall.”

“Then, he has plenty to learn, if you so desire to teach him.” Draco took the cup from between her hands, sending it floating to a sideboard near the door. With his hands around her waist, he helped her to straddle him in his chair. He began kissing her collar bone, sucking her skin and nipping.

She closed her eyes.

Draco’s mouth felt hot on her skin. She felt hot and light-headed. Hermione tried to remember a time when Ronald had been the last man she had slept with. She tried to remember all the years she’d spent on her own, fingering herself when she was overwhelmed by her needs.

Hermione did not want to ruin the delicate and balanced truce she and Draco had, but she knew he was right about that era coming to a close.

She imagined Scorpius standing outside the door. He was as tall as his father, same colouring, and similar features. They were hardly identical, though. Either he had not filled in yet, or his mother was waifish.

Hermione imagined Scorpius, lean and pale, with his ear at the door. She shivered. Beneath her, Draco growled and grabbed her arse. It still smarted from last night’s… affairs, and she hissed.

“Are you thinking about him, Granger? While my mouth is on you, you’re thinking of him!”

She put her hands on Draco’s shoulders and pushed his back against the cushion behind him. “I was imagining him listening outside the door while you make me come apart, Draco.” Hermione leaned forward to tease his mouth with her nipples. “If I am to be woman enough for the both of you…”

Hermione pressed her breast into his mouth, and he sucked it. His tongue swirled around her nipple, but he suckled on as much as he could get. When she pulled away to twist his mouth to the other side he stopped her.

“Stop! I do not have the time to fuck you before breakfast! Merlin, Granger.” Draco wrapped his arms around her back, pulling her close. “Will you agree to stay, to just be in the house? Do whatever you like.”

“Fine, but I’m not throwing myself at some boy who could be my son. I would like to think I have _some_ dignity.” Hermione pushed away from Draco, moving to stand.

His eyes lingered over her body as she stretched again, feeling more awake and well enough to walk around the room.

“I haven’t any clean clothes, though.”

“Wear your what you have from last night. If I recall correctly, you weren’t in it for very long.”

Hermione smiled. “It’s a bit much for sitting around the house, don’t you think? Also, I have no clean knickers.”

“Go without.”

Hermione frowned. “A courtesan, I shall be, then, indeed!”

“You’re very sexy when your colour is up, Granger.”

“It’s Weasley, Malfoy!”

Draco stood and stepped close to her. He brushed his thumbs across her cheek bones and looked her dead in the eye. “In this house, you do not have to carry that ghost. Just be free from it for a few more hours.” Then, he kissed her. It was slow, sampling and testing her mouth with his.

When he pulled away, he Summoned her dress and helped her into it. It was a long and red. It felt smooth as sin on her body, and Draco took time adjusting each seam as he liked it.

Hermione watched his hands as they moved over her, until they finally rested over the shoulder straps.

Draco looked at her and began adjusting his own robes. When he was finished he leaned forward just a hair and said, “It is a travesty that each of us was robbed of a robust sex life in our youth. You’ve given me more pleasure these past few months than my wife was capable of in our entire marriage. I insist that you enjoy yourself today.”

Before she could reply, Draco had opened the bedroom door with a flick of his wand, and they strolled to breakfast in pensive quiet.

* * *

Breakfast consisted of light fare accompanied by a light mood. Hermione, again, found herself between Draco and Scorpius at the table. However, the weight of their combined gazes made her feel self-conscious one moment and self-possessed the next.

When the clock struck the hour, Draco excused himself to his meeting, leaving Hermione and Scorpius alone with their tea. Hermione found herself at a loss for words. Of course, she had had conversations with young people. She was a fixture in Harry Potter’s house, and he and his wife Ginny had three kids; one of whom was about the same age as Scorpius.

This line of thinking did not ease her mind.

In her mind, Harry’s oldest would always be a chubby little boy with a round face that reminded her quite a bit of a boy she’d met on a train many, many, _many_ years ago. It was fortunate, then, that Scorpius drew her attention from her thoughts by clearing his throat.

“Would you agree, Mrs. Weasley, that my father is a man who uses words little, particularly when action is possible?”

Hermione considered this, but she wasn’t sure. She had also met Draco Malfoy on a train many, many, _many_ years ago, and she had known him, then, to be the most repugnant, insulting git whose bark far outpaced his bite.

“When I was a child, _Mrs. Weasley_ , I began to find sweeties around my house. I was seven or eight at the time, I don’t remember, but I was quite spoiled already, so I was not surprised to find my favourite treats as I went about my day. Please don’t smile at me like that, I’m not a child anymore.”

Blushing, Hermione realised she was looking at Scorpius the way she might look at one of Harry’s children when they told her something patently naïve. She also found she couldn’t stop. She had a sip of tea and spurred him on with a turn of her hand.

Scorpius lifted his napkin from his lap and set it beside his plate. Leaning forward with his elbows on the table, he continued, “I didn’t know it at the time, of course, but my father had been magicking the sweeties to where I might find them. Sometimes I would get one in a day, but sometimes I got quite a few.

“Then, one day, I found one of Honeydukes’ limited edition packs under a glass dish. I had been desperately looking for a ‘Severus Snape’ card for practically my whole life, it felt like. I just _knew_ he would be inside that pack, and I _love_ chocolate frogs. I wanted it very much.

“The problem was, that I couldn’t get into the glass. I tried everything I could think of, even picking it up and trying to _smash_ it on the stone floor. However, nothing I did worked.

“Of course, being the spoilt boy that I was,” Scorpius paused, glancing up from where he’d been watching his finger trace the fold of his napkin. “Yes, fine. Being the spoilt boy that I _am_ , nothing was going to stop me from getting what I wanted. I gathered up the foolish dish, and I took it to my father’s study.

“While I’m sure, now, that he had planned the whole plot out, Mrs. Weasley, when I arrived, my father played it all very straight. What had I found? Couldn’t I get inside it at all? Well, there were some sweeties on the table near his sofa if I wanted them.”

“Did you want _those_ , Scorpius?” Hermione asked. She stood and walked to his end of the table. It was distracting for him, she noted, and she perched on the table near his tea cup.

He was completely unabashed. He took his time looking at her, even leaning against the high back of his chair to take her in. “I had only one desire, Mrs. Weasley.”

“Did you get it?”

“My father and I walked to the sofa, and he had me put the dish on the table. He offered me a candy from the other dish, and I refused. He offered me two candies, and still, I didn’t want them. Now, there was a hefty pile of candies on that table by my chocolate frog, mind you. My father asked me if I would rather have the frog over all the other candies. I told him I would!

“ _That_ is when the dish opened. I reached for my chocolate frog and cried out that I had won it. I remember peeling it open, so carefully. I neither wanted to rip Severus Snape’s card, because I _knew_ it would be a Snape, nor did I want to lose my frog.”

“That’s very tricky.” Hermione nodded.

“Too tricky for me. Luckily, my father caught the frog in his hands as it leapt from the wrap. Before he passed it back to me, he asked me if I still thought one chocolate frog was worth more than all the candy on the table.” Hermione licked her lips. She had never heard a story such as this about Draco. She found a bubble of pride in him for all that she was hearing.

Scorpius leaned forward again but dropped one elbow from the table, resting his cheek in his other hand and looking up at her. He slid his free hand down her thigh. His palm was flat and heavy, and it pressed up again and in. “It was the best chocolate frog I have ever had.

“From then, on, I knew that my sweeties were not just sweeties. Sometimes I would save them up, and then, I would find something really good, and I would trade my little stash for something nice.”

“You saved your sweeties when you were eight years old?” Hermione asked, totally incredulous.

“Well, not all of them. Besides, Mother always had some for me, if I liked.”

“Because you are a spoilt child.”

“Quite right.” Scorpius looked up at her and then, moved her to stand in front of him. “Being very spoilt is a lovely thing. My father does have nice taste in things, sometimes.”

His hands were both petting her thighs, now. Being called a ‘thing’ was somewhat jarring, but the tenor in his voice had shifted, betraying his nerves.

“Do you think your father has left me here for your benefit?”

“Perhaps. Although, it is equally as likely that you both rowed yesterday, you’ve worn this frock to get back at him, and I’m a pawn in your plot against him.”

Hermione looked at the top of his silver-blond head. How curious to grow up so… Slytherin. “Your father and I had a nice evening last night.”

Scorpius was miserable at keeping his reactions to himself. Jealousy flashed in his eyes, and his hands slowed on her body. His confidence was deflating.

“Would you prefer that we had quarrelled? Do you _want_ to be nothing more than a game token?” Hermione watched Scorpius close down, and she was immediately reminded of his father.

At last, he got his thoughts and feelings under control. “I want to fuck you, Mrs. Weasley. I want to rip this from your body and bury my cock in you. I want you to scream for me. Scream _my_ name.”

However, his language did not shock her like she suspected he hoped it would. Fucking was all well and good, but Hermione was not a virgin in bloom. _This_ must be what Draco had been concerned over.

Hermione leaned closer, aware that her bosom shifted forward in a tantalising way. “Never fuck a dry cunt, Scorpius.”

That froze him in his seat. She could barely hear him breathing. Hermione rested her hands on his shoulders, leaning ever closer to him. She whispered, “A wet pussy is more fun all around.” Her mouth grazed his earlobe, and the only sound from him was a dry swallow.

Hermione licked her lips, and continued in a whisper. “Don’t you want to see my breasts, Scorpius? You’re doing a fine job on my thighs, but my nipples get so sensitive.” This time, her teeth grazed his earlobe.

Scorpius groaned. When she was settled back onto her perch on the table, his hands came to her shoulders and pulled the straps of her dress down her arms. Without preamble, her tits were naked to the room.

He grabbed them, squeezing, pinching her nipples. It was so wrong, but he was lost in the moment. Scorpius truly had no idea how to manage a breast and yet, Hermione just pressed her tits out to him, giving him more. She squeaked when he pinched her nipples too hard and flinched when he lifted one up and dropped it without care.

It was like Viktor all over again. It was Ron all over again. Untrained boys made up for skill with enthusiasm. She felt, too, like she was eighteen again.

How to get him to do it right without hurting his feelings? Hermione reached up and covered his hands with hers.

Scorpius smiled. “You’re ready to fuck?”

“After a single minute of your hands on my tits? My boy, you did much better than this last week, even with…” She glanced down at his lap. Hermione stood, pulling her arms free from the dress so the she was bare over her chest. “Why don’t you take off your robes? Fair’s fair.”

Scorpius stood quickly, happy to meet her challenge. He tapped the front of his robe with his wand. Buttons appeared and unworked themselves. Draco had done a similar move countless times before. However, Scorpius in just his trousers was not so much like his father at all. He was all sinew and bone under pale-pale skin.

Hermione licked her lips, suddenly very hungry to touch the perfect, smooth skin. “You must be very popular with young witches, Scorpius,” Hermione said as she smoothed her palm from his left nipple to his right.

“The occasional wizard, too. Everyone finds me irresistible.”

His words were galling. Hermione laughed.

“Are we going to fuck soon, Mrs. Weasley?”

“I haven’t even seen you naked yet.” Hermione moved closer to him, reaching for the waistband of his trousers.

He laughed, too, but his was nervous. “You want me to get nude in the breakfast room?”

“I do generally fuck in the nude. Has that fallen out of fashion?”

“Well, maybe in a bed at night, but I couldn’t-”

Hermione froze. “Scorpius. You have engaged in sexual intercourse, have you not?”

Indignation burnt away his confusion. “Of course!”

"So you mean to tell me that, even though you're no longer a virgin, you've never seen a naked woman?"

He blushed, but did not look away. 

“You’ve never seen a pussy before?”

“There’s no need to be vulgar!”

"Why ever not?" Hermione exclaimed.

"It would be improper to do so," he answered, his voice quiet and stern.

“You’re aggressively attempting to shag your father’s lover, and you think being _’naked in the dining room’_ room is the improper thing!” Hermione boggled. "Wherever would you get an idea like that? Wait! You don't have to say it. I know." She reached down and lifted her skirt. It was quite long, and even with the hem raised, it covered much of her thighs.

Then, she hopped up on the breakfast table in front of her chair. "Sit, Scorpius." When he obeyed, she put a foot on either arm rest and leaned forward. She stroked his hair and asked, "How do you imagine you'll ever eat pussy if you don’t allow yourself to even look at one?”

Scorpius had no retort for that, so Hermione sat back.

“Mr. Malfoy, you may not put your beautiful cock in my cunt until you’ve made it – and me – perfectly ready. However you think you can do that, it’s up to you.” Finally, she leaned back, resting her palms on the table and watching him with the same sense of challenge as she felt yesterday.

It only took a moment for him to catch up. Scorpius used one hand to push her skirt up her thighs, exposing her pussy to him for the very first time.

“You’re telling me I’m to lick… it?”

Hermione smiled. He was _so_ prim. “I know some wizards who are quite good at it, actually.”

“But do _they_ like it?”

“That is a matter of taste.” She hoped he would get on with it. Tits out and legs spread, Hermione felt like a hungry goddess, ready to eat some worlds. Scorpius was obviously overwhelmed by her… candour, and she was getting wet just watching him. “You should touch it, at least. How will you know when it’s ready if you don’t?” Hermione watched Scorpius lick his lips. "Touch it. Start at the top, and tease it."

Scorpius scowled. "You're being quite bossy, you know."

"Well, you're not _doing_ anything, so I thought I'd tell you." She lifted one hand and put her finger to her clit as she liked. Scorpius batted her hand away and leaned forward. She thought she heard him mutter 'know it all,' but she couldn't be sure.

His hands moved to spread her thighs apart. He leaned forward, and she felt his breath on her thighs. “Looks slick to me, Mrs. Weasley. It seems as though you are naturally randy for me.” He stood, dropping his trousers and pants.

Hermione could not see what he was doing precisely but soon she felt the thick head of his cock at her opening. Scorpius didn’t even bother to look at her before he shoved it in, taking hold of her thighs to help leverage her hips to meet his. She dropped to her back, china clinking as she shoved it aside.

A saucer hit the floor.

“Right wet for me, Mrs Weasley.” That was the last Scorpius said for some time. Instead, he focused on ploughing into her, sometimes fast, sometimes deep.

She watched his face when he grimaced, slowing his pace and his breath. Hermione thought he had to be fighting to hold on; he had gone rather pink.

He persisted. Hermione stared up at the tiled ceiling and listened to the china rattle as Scorpius fucked her. Sometimes her gentle grunts would escalate into loud moans, but for some time, it was just the hard pounding ‘fuck’ typical of young men.

Scorpius moved his hand to stroke down her belly until he found her clit. He lost his rhythm, but flicked her folds just enough. Something inside her burst, and she saw stars behind her eyes.

He rode the crest of her orgasm into one of his own, pounding into her so hard that the feet of the table scraped against the floor.

A cup and saucer fell and shattered.

He squeezed her thighs so hard, he left slight hand prints on either side. Overall, Hermione found it much more impressive than the previous weekend. The room around her seemed to float, and she barely noticed when Scorpius returned to sitting in his chair.

After she caught her breath, Hermione let her head loll to the side. She opened her mouth to say something, but her voice was hoarse and caught in her throat. She smirked, mostly at herself, but also at the boy who sat with his head lolled to the side as well.

Then, she felt his seed began to drip from her – onto his foot, she assumed. Judging by the wrinkle in his nose and his sudden wand work to clean this, repair that, and summon a wash basin and flannels, he didn’t like the product of his hard work.

Hermione couldn’t be bothered. She had gotten well-shagged twice in the last twelve hours. If last night was anything to go by, she’d have a hard time getting back on her feet at all.

“Come, Mrs Weasley.” Scorpius’s hands were now closing her thighs, and his arms around her back lifted her to stand. His level of distaste and… primness reminded her exactly of Percy Weasley, her brother-in-law, who could be a terrible priss at times.

Hermione stifled her giggle.

Scorpius was _not_ amused.

This only amused her more.

“Mipsy,” Scorpius said to no one. A house-elf appeared. It did not look at him. It seemed to look at the corner of the room.

“Take Mrs. Weasley to the hot springs and give her any medicinals she may need. Then, collect all of her clothes and have them laundered. Then, retrieve Mrs Weasley from the spring and take her to the courtyard. We will be having lunch there.” Having finished his imperious announcement, Scorpius appraised Hermione once more, seemed to approve of what he saw, and turned to walk away.

Hermione, stunned by the sudden turn of events, let the elf do as its master willed, finding herself up to her neck in natural hot springs in the blink of an eye.

* * *

Draco returned home while Hermione was recuperating in the hot spring. His meeting had gone very well, indeed.

When Hermione found him, he and Scorpius were in his study talking quietly. Both stood to greet her when she came in the door, and she felt as though her mind were buckling a bit.

Both were wearing well-tailored robes. Both stood tall and proud. Both cut what could only be called a ‘Malfoy’ silhouette.

She was scrubbed, but unkempt and felt a little like a bramble on a silk scarf. Hermione wasn't even wearing shoes; Draco's study was a short walk from his bedroom, where she had gotten ready once more.

The door 'clicked' shut behind her, and Hermione looked between the two men. "I hope I'm not interrupting."

Draco smiled and shook his head. "Not at all. How was your morning?"

"Pleasant enough," Hermione said.

Scorpius seemed to deflate a bit at her words. His stare turned hot, though, as if a challenge had been issued and accepted.

His father, though, smiled as though that were just more good news on a good day. "Very good. Will you be staying for dinner?"

Hermione shook her head. "I've asked Mipsy to gather my things, actually. I'll never get through the research if I stay."

"Whatever you think is best," Draco smiled, looking her over. Then, he took his seat once more.

"Father! He's not serious, Mrs. Weasley. Of course, you should stay." Scorpius's insistence made her heart race, but she really did have to go.

"We'll see how the week goes, and perhaps I'll return next weekend."

"Perhaps!" Scorpius exclaimed, barely keeping his voice at a moderate level. "Is this how you two always conduct yourselves? It's a wonder you've managed anything at all."

"Scorpius," Draco started, obviously used to reigning his son in, "Hermione and I are both very busy."

Hermione walked toward Draco's desk. "Shall we tell him how it began?"

Draco looked up at her from his chair and nodded. She touched his shoulder before turning to Scorpius.

"I needed a scroll, which, of course, was only to be found in the Malfoy private library. I owled your father. No response. I sent a second owl. No response. I had my assistant sit and wait outside of the door of his office in London until he arrived. When your father _deigned_ to arrive at the office, at 2:30 on a Thursday afternoon, my assistant popped back to mine, and I left work immediately. By that point, I had only three days to get my report together." Recalling the event, Hermione felt her patience falter again.

Draco smiled and said, "Here she was, a complete harridan at my door, and I had only just seen her letters. She came in on a tear, and I had to listen to her tirade for almost ten minutes. When she finally took a breath, I said: ‘Merlin, Granger, you sound like you need a shag as badly as I do.’"

Hermione, now scowling at Draco's portrayal of her, turned to Scorpius and said, "So I said: ‘Fine, if that's what it bloody well takes to get the scroll, let's get on with it.’"

This made Scorpius blush a bit, and his father stood and stepped near Hermione. Draco touched her neck with the back of his fingers, stroking softly. He said, "That was... eight months ago?"

"Nine, next week," Hermione corrected.

Draco hummed.

"However, I will have no more need of your rotten library if I lose my job, so I really must go home and get through some work."

Scorpius turned away, looking very much like a boy whose new toy had to be put away too soon. Draco offered to see her out. She and Scorpius said casual good-byes, and Hermione preceded Draco out his office door.

At least she did at first. By the time they were halfway to the Floo, Draco had her body pressed between his and a windowsill over-looking the courtyard. His mouth was on her neck, and he was nipping at her skin.

"You are radiant," Draco whispered, his greedy hands moving over her chest. "Did you like fucking him so much?"

Hermione felt her skin get hot. She was so aroused and embarrassed. She swallowed, unsure of what to say.

Draco didn't need her to speak. He was kissing her, rubbing his tongue against hers. He pulled away, breathing heavily. "I had no idea how exhilarating being jealous of you would be."

"You're not angry?" Hermione asked, moving his hands down to her arse.

"Oddly, no. This has somehow become a competition with my son, which is something I've always delighted in." He used his hands on her arse to bring their hips together. "Has he spoiled you? Is there still room in your bed for me?"

"In my bed, on my sofa, wherever you like." Hermione stroked his hair before stepping away. "But I really must get home."

"Of course," Draco agreed. They resumed the walk to the Floo, and he fondled her all the way. He helped her into her very tall shoes, and then, through the Floo with all her things.

Hermione arrived home absolutely distracted and aroused, and after a very cold shower, she noticed several fresh love bites. She looked at each one, feeling more reckless with the next.

She went to the mirrored cabinet in the loo and pulled out her bruise paste. Hermione shook her head as she tended to each mark. Then, she put on the kettle, and got to work.


	3. Chapter 3

_Friday  
3 October, 2025_

Hermione was astonished to find herself at the Potters' gigantic kitchen table next to one _Scorpius Malfoy_. It seemed that Scorpius and James were, in fact, fast friends, and that James had always been afraid of letting on about it because of the bad blood between their parents.

Somehow, over the course of the week, Scorpius had convinced James that it would be fine. Also, he’d evidently convinced him that Friday night family dinner would be an ideal time to handle it. James, Hermione thought, was either very brave or very foolish for believing his Slytherin friend, because the usually boisterous dinner table could only be classified as 'polite' at the moment.

Scorpius was doing his best to be charming with Harry and Ginny, but Hermione had seen the spark of a predator finding his prey the moment she'd come through the door. James and Scorpius and James's younger brother, Al, who was also Slytherin, had been talking Quidditch. Scorpius accepted James's introduction.

Hearing him say "Mrs. Weasley" with feigned innocence was thrilling.

Trying to control herself among her oldest friends and their sons was an entirely different matter. Hermione had only just served herself some carrots when Scorpius's hand appeared on her thigh. That hand would be there throughout dinner.

After they ate, Scorpius paid her no more attention than he did Harry or Ginny. Hermione made an early night of it, making her excuses and Flooing home just after dessert.

When Scorpius called her shortly after, she could not say she was surprised. His handsome face shining through her fireplace was endearing, but she tried not to let on about that.

"How did you get access to my Floo, Mr. Malfoy?"

His answer was a smirk, not unlike his father's. Then, he said, "My mum thinks I'm staying at Father's tonight, and Father has no idea. Can I come through?"

She stepped aside to allow him in. Scorpius came through with grace, and she noticed that he'd changed from the casual clothes he'd worn to the Potters' into a nice Oxford shirt and slacks.

When he realised she was looking at him, he gave a little spin.

Hermione, meanwhile, had just thrown on an old Chudley Cannons shirt of her late husband's.

"Is that what you sleep in?" Scorpius asked with some caution.

Hermione smiled. "Lingerie is not my forte, I admit. Tea?"

"Whisky, please." Scorpius moved toward Hermione's living room sofa, discreetly wiping his palms on his slacks.

Hermione poured two whiskies and brought them out on a tray. She sat on the sofa as well, her body turned to face Scorpius. "What brings you over?"

"You were very distracting tonight. All week, really, Mrs. Weasley." Scorpius took up his drink, warming it with his hands around the glass.

"Oh?"

Scorpius reached over and lifted her foot to rest on his knee. "I've done a bit of research about you, Mrs. Weasley. How you met Harry Potter on the train to Hogwarts, and all of your escapades with Mr Potter and Ronald Weasley. I saw your wedding announcement in the Prophet archives." He paused to grab her ankle as it slid away from him.

Scorpius passed her his whisky. "Plenty of rubbish speculation about when the 'Golden Trio' et al would start breeding. I found your husband's obituary."

Hermione held some whisky on her tongue, trying to let Scorpius get to the point.

He was holding the other glass of whisky now and stroking her ankle as though she were a skittish creature. "There was plenty more rubbish after that. You and Oliver Wood out on a date. You and some American, too. The papers were quite cruel when you tried to get on with your life. More interesting, though, was the quiet name change back to Granger."

Hermione swallowed. "For professional reasons only."

"Of course. I couldn't find any notable works by 'Hermione Weasley', but 'Hermione Granger' really is well-regarded in her field. Very impressive."

Hermione exhaled, taking the change in subject to mean that they were out of the tricky bit of the conversation.

Scorpius relaxed as well, and his hand got more adventurous.

She allowed it.

They drank in quiet. Scorpius finished his first. When Hermione finished hers, she reached across him to put her glass on the tray. From there, she moved closer to him. Hermione found herself spread atop Scorpius, unbuttoning his shirt. “Why did you look into all that, Scorpius?"

"I wanted to know how you and my Father came together. It's so strange." He pulled her old shirt over her head, throwing it far away from them. His fingertips began to trace over her back and down to her arse.

Hermione tried to remember which knickers she was wearing, but couldn’t. Nothing special, then. She hoped they were a little nice, at least.

Scorpius twisted until he was able to grab her arse with both hands. He squeezed once, and then pulled her so she was properly on top of him.

Sitting up, Hermione got settled. He was bright-eyed and watched her with lascivious intent. She lifted her breast and licked her nipple.

Scorpius stared, holding his breath after a moment.

She licked her other nipple. She could feel a tent rising against her arse. Hermione reached behind her, stroking him through his trousers.

Scorpius’s body got hot beneath her. She leaned over him, bracing her hands on either side of his head. His mouth went to her breasts. Again, talentless, but enthusiastic. Hermione knew she'd be sore in the morning, but she offered up the other one to him anyway.

After a few moves back and forth, Hermione stood, intent on releasing his cock from its confines. As she worked, she said, "Your father and I are nowhere near as strange as you and I. Brilliant play, coming with James tonight."

Hermione moved back to straddle Scorpius. She grabbed his very proud erection, pulled her knickers to the side, and slid her pussy all the way down it.

Scorpius hissed. He grabbed her arse but closed his eyes. When he got himself under control, he whispered. "James would have kittens if he knew right now. I think he fancied you for a bit. He used to hex wizards who said rude things about you." Scorpius put his mouth to her neck and Vanished her knickers. "Were you wet for me all night, or is it the whisky?"

It must have been a rhetorical question. Scorpius was now holding her tightly against him. He was attempting to snog her, but this was one time enthusiasm would not be enough.

Hermione grabbed his hair, gave a gentle tug, and then, she gave him a lesson. She controlled it for a long time. It felt good to show him how she liked it and to have the upper hand. When she did something he liked, he pushed his hips into hers. She ground her hips against his when he was successful, as well.

When Hermione finally released him, he tried to speak but his voice cracked. She could feel his cheeks flush hot, they were so close. Hermione pressed her mouth against his, unwilling to let him lose his momentum.

Her thighs tightened on his hips. Scorpius shoved up, and they both moaned. She _had_ been wet for him all night: every rattle of the dinnerware had reminded her of the weekend before.

It felt good to be something besides the spinster aunt. It felt good to have a secret in plain sight. It felt good to watch Harry and Ginny so boggled by Scorpius that they didn't fret over her, however subtly.

It felt so good. As did is cock, filling and stretching her. He was so ready, so enthusiastic. Hermione grabbed his shoulders and increased her pace.

Scorpius snarled and drove in all the way. He wanted to control them, and he grabbed her arse. Hard and slow, he speared into her again and again. "Like that?"

“Fuck me.” Hermione hissed and nodded.

Scorpius did it again. He fucked her deep and hard. "Like that?" he asked, reaching between her thighs for her clit. He plucked at it, and Hermione was so overwhelmed. Her eyes closed and her mouth dropped open.

Scorpius pushed in and out and started to command that she come for him. It was too much, though. She'd gotten used to his father's carefully built orgasms. Scorpius would not drive one out of her tonight.

Sitting back, Hermione began to roll her hips in circles and loops. Hermione whispered, "You."

The one word slowed him. "What?"

She looked at him, lifting her tits and squeezing them. They were so tender from his attentions, and teasing them softly added a delicate arousal as she fucked him. "You. You come."

Scorpius's breath caught, and he pushed in again. "Witch."

Hermione smiled. She raised her arms above her head, snaking her hands together and undulating on his cock. She said it again. "Come."

He shook his hair out of his eyes, swallowing.

"Don't you want to?" Hermione asked, squeezing him again.

Scorpius shouted as he lost control, pumping into her a few times before he shot his load, burying his cock deep inside her.

Hermione didn’t stop fucking him until he was panting roughly. Then, she folded over him, sliding her fingers into his hair. Scorpius relaxed inside her embrace for a long moment, catching his breath. She revelled in the smell of him, his silken hair, his Adam’s apple.

Twisting her hips a bit, Hermione let him fall from inside her. He groaned, which made her smile. They laid together, catching their breath. Hermione was just dozing to the tick of the clock when Scorpius cleared his throat.

"What am I to call you?"

"Whatever suits you in the moment, I think." Hermione sat up, and her pussy squelched. She closed her eyes, knowing she should be embarrassed, but feeling too good to be. "You, bedroom, through there. I'm going to pop into the loo."

Hermione cleaned up some, as well as taking care of her usual routine. Arriving in her bedroom, she found Scorpius under her duvet. She thought he might have dozed off, but he whistled at her when she stepped through the door.

"Beautiful."

Hermione rolled her eyes and moved to her bed. "Do not make a habit of just appearing in my Floo and thinking you can come over, Scorpius. Neither of us needs to be found out."

He reached out for her, pulling her body against his under the cover. "Scandal." He kissed her neck.

"Precisely. I can see the headline now: In Bed with the Enemy."

"Are we enemies?"

Hermione rolled toward Scorpius. "Your grandfather and I were. Your father and I... that's more complicated. You said you've seen the papers."

Scorpius rolled to his back. "I have. So, I can call you whatever I like?"

"Maybe not 'Granger'. Your father favours it."

Scorpius nodded. "What about 'Malfoy'?"

"Be serious."

He turned his head back to look at her. "I am. Are you to be my step-mother? Now _that_ would be a proper scandal." Scorpius twisted, grabbing her breast. He didn't squeeze or tweak it, just held it in his palm.

"Your father shall not marry a Mudblood, Scorpius, and neither shall you. You are perfectly aware of that, I’m sure."

"Oi! Language! And I've never heard such a thing." Scorpius sat forward in an instant.

To Hermione, he looked genuinely surprised, and that was quite curious. She had to assume that Draco had come to see the error of his ways, although they hadn't spoken anything of it. However, these things never simply went away. "You are the last in a long line of Pure wizards, Scorpius. Surely, you understand the weight of that."

"What, like marriage contracts and the whole lot? Father said that I needn't worry about that. I can marry whomever."

Hermione stared at him. "You're kidding."

"Absolutely not. And he certainly wouldn't stop me if I wanted to marry a Muggle-Born witch."

She couldn't find the words.

Scorpius leaned forward. "Hermione, I've never even heard my dad say such horrible things. My mum's parents, maybe, but never my father." He shook his head and looked at his hands, as disbelieving of her words as she was of his. "We'll go talk to my father. He'll sort this all out."

As he was moving to get up, Hermione stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "Scorpius, it's the middle of the night. We'll go tomorrow."

He paused and relaxed back to sit next to her. Quiet settled over them. However silent, Scorpius was still bothered by the exchange. Hermione took his hand, pulling him to lay next to her once more.

She stared into his grey eyes. They were familiar and new at the same time. She combed her fingers through his hair and they looked into each other’s eyes until Scorpius yawned. It was wide, like a cat, and Hermione smiled.

He smiled back.

Hermione made the room dark, pulled the covers over them, and kissed Scorpius on the temple. She fell asleep as soon her head hit the pillow.

* * *

_Saturday_

Hermione woke up to the smell of a proper fry up. She rubbed her eyes. That couldn’t be right.

She grabbed her dressing gown and her wand and crept into the sitting room. Draco was sitting there with a cup of tea reading the paper, while Mipsy cooked and cleaned. She stopped halfway through cleaning the cupboard doors to pull scones from the oven.

Hermione lowered her wand and rubbed her eyes again. “G’morning, Draco.”

His eyes rose from the paper and took her in. His nostrils flared, but he smiled at her. “Good morning. Is my son in your bedroom?”

Wincing, she nodded. He didn’t seem mad, but Hermione had no idea how to navigate this.

“His mother is quite worried about him. It seems she thought he was at mine, which she Flooed me about very first thing this morning. Of course, I thought he was at hers, and she knows me well enough that I couldn’t lie. Can you tell me what did happen?”

Mipsy brought Hermione a cup of tea, setting it beside her preferred chair. “I went to Harry’s for family dinner. Turns out James and Scorpius have been friends for some time. Scorpius was there when I arrived. We all had dinner. I left early. Scorpius, presumably, left shortly after. Then, he Flooed and came over. I had no idea.”

Draco looked at the ceiling. “Scorpius Malfoy and James Potter are friends, you say? What has the world come to? Next thing you know, Draco Malfoy will be shagging Hermione Granger, pigs will fly…”

Hermione blew on her tea to cool it down a bit. “You’re not angry?”

“Of course not.” Draco stood, moving to her to give her a long, soft kiss. “I’m rather put out at my ex for disrupting our morning, rather glad I finally got Mipsy in here to clean this place up, and quite vexed that my son was a step ahead of me, but the game plays on.” He kissed her temple and walked to her bedroom.

The world came into focus as she settled back into her favourite chair. Rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, she tried to key into how her body was feeling. She was sore in some new places, sensitive in others. Hermione had her whole cup of tea by the time Draco emerged. He retook his place on the sofa.

Scorpius followed him, but moved toward the Floo. “I shall return. I have to go to Father’s to Floo my mum. I’ll be back before the eggs are ready.”

He was as good as his word, and soon enough, the three of them were sitting down to breakfast. The table was set with Hermione’s finest linens and china, Mipsy obviously not knowing any better.

Seeing her wedding presents on the table ruined Hermione’s appetite, however. The breakfast conversation didn’t help either.

It seemed that Scorpius felt perfectly candid around his father once he had had his first plate of eggs, rashers, beans, ham, a scone, and breakfast potatoes. The amount of food a young man could put in his body would always astonish her.

“Father, tell Hermione that we can marry whomever we like.”

Draco looked at his son but didn’t answer. Hermione felt a flush of anxiety and spread some jam on a slice of toast.

“Father.”

Draco wiped his mouth. “Scorpius. You are welcome to seek whatever romantic pursuits that you like. I have ensured your financial security through careful investing over the last twenty-five years. You have no need to worry about that. I cannot say exactly what your mother’s family expects, or what spells exactly are tied to her family.

"There are spells, both Black and Malfoy family spells, that are unsavoury. I’m working on those issues. The magic is tricky. I’ve been working with my aunt Andromeda to gain insights on her experiences marrying a Muggle-Born. Even if we can’t unwork all the magic, there is no need for concern. Take, for example, our cousin Nymphadora Tonks. She was a metamorphmagus. Obviously, she was not negatively impacted, so you need not worry.”

The colour drained from Scorpius’s face.

Draco set his fork down and wiped his hands on his napkin. “Scorpius, we’ve talked about this. We’ve talked about my Dark Mark. We've talked about the family's role in the war.”

“But that was a long time ago,” Scorpius said, mostly to his plate.

“It was not. I am trying to rebuild the Malfoy name to be something so opposite from my father. You know I’m working constantly for this. It is working. The Malfoy name is not reviled as it was when you were a child. Hermione tells me you’re friends with Harry Potter’s son. That’s phenomenal, when you consider everything.”

Scorpius looked around the table. He seemed to have plenty he wanted to say, but he couldn’t find the words. He turned to look at Hermione.

She spoke first. “Scorpius. It _was_ a long time ago, just not long enough for people to forget.”

“You forgot!”

Hermione frowned. It probably seemed that way to him. “I very truly did not forget, Scorpius.”

“Then, why have you been shagging my father? You two were enemies!” Scorpius’s mood shifted. Gone was the cool, cavalier young Pure-blood. In his place sat a petulant, sulking young man.

Hermione shook her head, almost laughing at him. “Yes! For two-thirds of my life I thought your father was a terrible prat! Also, you’ll recall that your parents were rather married for quite some time.” She turned to look at Draco.

Draco leaned back in his chair and levelled a gaze at his son. The noise in the room faded until it was just house-elf magic at work. As the moments stretched out, Scorpius’s demeanour calmed and his external tantrum moved inward. His muscles tightened and his jaw began to work. He sat up straighter, and began to stare back at his father.

There was energy in the room, but it wasn’t tension. It cracked like a bullwhip between father and son. Draco leaned forward over his breakfast plate and, with a voice as cold as steel, said, “Mrs. Weasley does our family a great honour, a great forbearance when she associates with us. You will not take that for granted.”

Scorpius swallowed. “Yes, sir.”

“That is quite enough,” Hermione announced. “Mipsy, clean the fine china and linens and pack them for long term storage. Bring a tray to the living room, please, with tea.”

Hermione pointed at each of the men and gestured toward the sitting room. She strode away from them without a second look. She sat in the middle of the sofa, enough room on either side if one or the other or both chose to sit beside her.

Scorpius, like metal to a magnet, moved to sit as close as he could respectably.

Draco, however, opted to perch at the edge of a window seat Hermione had set up between two bookshelves.

She turned to look at Scorpius. “The first seven years I knew your father were bad at best, and literal torture at worst. I would say, until your generation was born: you, James, all of those children, I spared not a single thought for your father. Legally, socially, personally, apart from some providing some testimony, he was no longer in my life.

“Then, _Harry Potter_ got it in his head that he needed to give your father’s wand back. What an arse.”

Across the room, Draco rolled his eyes and gave a short puff of air through his nose.

Hermione continued, “I advised against it. I told him the wand wouldn’t want its old master, that Draco had surely gotten a new wand, that it would only put headlines in the papers.”

“Did it?” Scorpius asked, perplexed by this tangent.

“Yes. Harry Potter doesn’t listen to me. I’m just here to slow him down, it seems. Anyway, all of those things happened. Then, Harry got it in his head that Draco must know something he didn’t know, and he asked me to look into it, because I’m also here to do all the _boring research_.”

“Harry Potter sounds like an arse,” Scorpius crinkled his nose and looked at his father.

Draco gave a small shake of his head in agreement.

“That is neither here nor there,” Hermione sighed, setting her hand on Scorpius’s thigh without thinking. “Now, of course, I didn’t find anything that Harry would be interested in, but I did find a small but steady increase in funding in the then, ‘Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures,’ where I worked. It seems the budget increase was passed in a closed Board meeting – anonymous, but highly efficacious.

“Our reference library was growing at the same steady trickle. It seemed that every time an old Death Eater family library was confiscated, pertinent legal books and spell histories were syphoned off to our little basement office.

“It was all untraceable to the common observer. Who cared if a pittance was granted to an underfunded department? Who cared if worthless, old texts which were probably jinxed anyway landed in some poor sod’s too-cramped office?

“What made other people think nothing, however, made me immediately think _something_. Or rather, some _one_ , as it turned out to be your father. He was doing what Malfoys had always done: pulling strings, except that _now_ it was working to my benefit.”

“So you forgave my father because he gave your department money and gave it what you needed.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Not bloody likely.”

“Indeed. Not bloody likely. However, I did think it was rather curious that he was, a: doing it right in plain sight, and b: not taking any credit. Suspicious is as suspicious does. However, I had plenty of work to do, I was just married, and then, Ronald drove into a tree. I couldn’t be bothered with Draco Malfoy.

“I was a mess for years. My life was on hold while everyone else rushed forward. My friends started families, Hogwarts was rebuilding, my department getting bigger and bigger, promotions, restructuring.

“I turned thirty-five. Harry had just taken James to King’s Cross a few weeks before, and I remembered what it was like going to school, and how different life was now. I wondered if Draco Malfoy’s son would be like he had been, and I wondered what it would do to James to be Harry Potter’s son, even though he takes after his mother so much.

“Thinking about all of us, each grown into our little worlds, _that_ was when I began to think that Draco Malfoy might be as different from his Hogwarts self as Hermione Granger was from Hermione Weasley.”

“But that was eleven years ago.” Scorpius frowned and looked at his father.

Hermione shook her head, almost laughing at him. “Yes! For _two-thirds_ of my life I thought your father was a terrible prat!” She turned to look at Draco. “Why don’t young people ever understand that life lasts for a long time?”

What she didn’t realise during her story-telling and culminating her emphatic turn toward Draco was that the front of her dressing gown had fallen open. He looked at her breasts for a long time, until she caught on. Hermione looked down and then adjusted her robe, rolling her eyes at Draco.

Draco sat forward and said, "Scorpius, you are excused. Take Mipsy with you."

"Father, I must insist-" Scorpius replied, but stopped when his father gave him a look conveying no back talk would be allowed. Scorpius stood, bowing to Hermione before he moved to her Floo, calling out his father's address, and then stepping through.

Hermione smiled. "He's so obedient. It's darling."

"There's no room for blatant disobedience in my house; that’s not how I raised him. How do you think we get so devious?" Draco smiled, sitting back in the window seat. He beckoned her over.

Hermione stood, shrugging out of her dressing gown before sauntering over to him. She watched the sun reflecting in his hair and noticed that there was a bit of a tent under his robes.

"You're beautiful all tousled like this." Draco began opening his robes, working the buttons of his shirt and trousers.

Hermione paused to shake her fingers through her hair. She knew Draco liked her wild hair, especially after the too-sleek look his ex favoured. Then, she pulled her hands down her neck to her breasts, lifting them and squeezing.

Draco was enthralled. He groaned and stood to strip as quickly as he could. "Granger, Granger, Granger. So bloody fit."

She smiled. Draco was shameless, and she loved that. She moved her hands down her sides to her hips and behind her back. Totally starkers in her living room, she leaned on one foot and played shy a moment.

By the window, Draco looked her over from top to toe and back again. "You don't mind that I sent him away, do you?" He reached down and stroked his cock.

Hermione shook her head. She was watching his hand work. "Have you been thinking about me whilst you wank, Malfoy? Such a pervert."

"Turn around."

She did. "Thinking about my rear?" Hermione grabbed her arse and squeezed it. Tossing her hair a bit, she felt her nipples get tight against the air. "Are you going to spank me for being naughty, again?"

"Stop acting like a swot, Granger. I know you were up all night fucking."

Hermione twisted, looking back at him. "Fucking, perhaps, but not coming." She bent a little bit, putting her hand obviously between her thighs.

"Do you want me to make you come, Granger? Do you need me in order to come?"

She hummed. "Mm-Malfoy. Make me come." Hermione turned and stepped toward him, slowly. "Make me come, Draco," she whispered.

He was wanking in earnest now. His eyes devoured her. Draco looked so regal, even nude with his cock in his hand.

Hermione knelt before him. She batted his hand away and grabbed his shaft, wrapping her hand around it and bringing it to her lips. With her free hand, she touched her clit.

Draco watched everything, holding himself upright with his hands on either bookshelf.

She had just pushed her mouth to the very base of his cock when ecstasy took him, and his seed shot into her throat. Hermione was ready for it, swallowing and licking his cock as much as she could. She pulled back when his arms fell to his sides, and she looked up at him with a smile.

Draco was breathing heavily, looking relaxed and sated.

"Your cum tastes so good, Draco."

Draco sank onto the window seat and began to pet her hair. "Hermione, I'm sorry. I-"

"Don't apologise. You've made me quite wet. I want you to finger me... And lick me... And fuck me..."

Heat rose in his cheeks. "You'll be the death of me."

Hermione stood, kissing his head. "Catch your breath while I put the tea things away." She turned, collected the tea tray, and walked to the kitchen.

As she set it all on the table, she marvelled at the house-elf's handiwork. The worktops gleamed, and she noticed a subtle under-pattern to her wallpaper. It seemed that it was meant to be white, and not almost-white.

Lost in her kitchen thoughts, Hermione barely noticed when Draco came up behind her until he was licking behind her ear. He moved his hips against hers so that she was in line with the worktop. Then, he pressed his hands down her body, moving to kneel behind her as she bent at the hips.

Hermione smiled, spreading her legs for him. He was kissing her arse and thighs, his lips delicately brushing against her skin. His fingertips stroked her slit, spreading her open and revealing how wet she had become.

Without a word, his tongue moved over her opening. Surprised and delighted, Hermione chuckled to herself and relaxed onto the worktop. She bent one leg to rest her knee on Draco's shoulder, trying to give him access.

He lapped at her without any finesse for a few minute, devouring her wetness. Then, he let out a growl of frustration. Draco slapped her arse softly before rising to his feet. "I can't do this like that. Up you go."

Hermione mewled, stretching her back out, and pushing her hips toward Draco. He stroked her hip, and then urged her up with his hands at her waist. The cool, hard worktop began to warm under her thighs.

Draco ducked his head down to wrap his lips over her nipple. Hermione put her hands behind her back so she could push her chest forward. Then, she closed her eyes, sinking into the moment. She tuned into the sensations of Draco's mouth on her breast, and then, his finger at her clit.

Already, her heart was racing. Her kitchen smelled so clean and fresh, and Draco smelt of sex and power. Something inside of him had awoken. Hermione found it to be quite stimulating.

Holding up a finger, Draco stepped away from her to walk to the table. He retrieved a chair, moving it between her legs. He sat, moving her feet to rest on his knees.

“I wonder what Scorpius is planning right now,” he said before leaning forward and taking a proper taste of her. His hands wrapped around her thighs from underneath.

Hermione was shocked. He was fucking her with his tongue without the gentle preamble. One of her hands came around, fingers tugging his hair. Her body began to tremble, and it bowed over him. Soon, she was screaming into the room.

Draco held fast. His hands gripped her thighs, keeping them spread. As her body came apart, he moved his tongue faster and faster. He only pulled back to watch her in the final throes.

She was still catching her breath as it rasped in her throat when he slid his middle finger in her tight, wet pussy. Hermione shook her head, broken protests on her lips. Draco only nodded, his lip curling a bit as she whimpered.

Two fingers were now pumping inside her, stroking her sensitive pussy. Draco stood, the chair scraping behind him. Hermione wrapped her arms around his shoulders. He hoisted her up, his forearms again under her thighs.

Draco lifted her so his cock was at her opening. He whispered her name, and she nodded. 

Hermione’s head rested on his shoulder until the tip of his cock pushed into her. The angle Draco had her at let him push in so deep – and soon, she was using her hold of his shoulders to leverage herself again and again. Hermione wrapped her legs around him, her heels digging into his arse.

He let her have her way at first, but he grabbed her arse, slowing her rhythm to one of his choosing. “Perfect,” he growled.

Hermione licked her lips. “I’m so close. Fuck me.”

“You like my knob?”

“Clearly.” Hermione emphasised her urgency by pressing her nails into his skin.

“Better than my son’s?” Draco gave a sharp thrust into her.

“Much, Draco. Please.” Hermione blinked and tried to focus on Draco’s mouth and not his cock, inside of her, keeping her joy just out of reach. “It’s the best.”

His nostrils flared. “The best?”

The words sunk in, and Draco began again. He pumped into her, his arms tight around her, pulling her harder and faster over his cock. Draco moved his hips enough to keep it interesting, and Hermione began to come again.

Draco came shortly after. Their voices sounded, and they held tight to the other until his softened member slid from inside her.

Both caught their breath and kept to themselves for a moment. Draco stepped back to take his seat in the chair. Hermione leaned against the worktop. After a moment, she felt his seed slip out of her. Frowning, Hermione reached for a clean towel.

She wiped the inside of her thigh and looked at Draco. She could feel her grin growing, but he had that intense look she remembered from sixth year. “What?”

His eyes travelled down her body and up again. “The best, Granger?”

Hermione blushed, dropping her head to look away. She felt a bit like she was betraying her husband but she knew it was true. “Ron and I were young. You and I are skilled.”

“Who else?” Draco stared at her.

“Presumptuous!” Hermione said as she again wiped the seed as it dripped out of her. She was careful to get it all and still have a delicate touch. “Viktor,” she murmured.

Draco pushed his hand through his hair. An old arrogance had taken over the moment for him. “That good, hm?”

“Piss off. We were fifteen. Who knows how to fuck when they are fifteen?”

He smiled. “The Yule Ball.” In his lap, his cock bobbed a bit.

Hermione noticed. She smiled and stepped toward him. “Not that night. Well, yes, that night, but the first time was after he saved me from the lake.”

Draco’s eyes lit up, but he didn’t press further. He looked her over once more. “That was a fun year. Death Eaters. Diggory. Father got punished by the Dark Lord. Ah, youth.” Then he leaned forward and kissed her torso, worshipping her.

She let him. Hermione pet him as his mouth moved in the valley between her breasts. Draco looked up at her.

He had apologised and thanked her in the past. It seemed that every time they had met over the intervening years, he’d had some sort of revelation of how miserable he’d been or how much he (and the whole wizarding world, he’d said) owed her. It didn’t happen as much now that he was a regular feature of her weekends, but still…

Draco pulled away, holding her still with his hands on her hips. He looked up at her and said, “My son always provokes me to think about the future. At the moment, the only idea that comes to mind is you, Granger.”

“Weasley.” Hermione licked her lips. “Shall we get married today, then, or wait until the papers catch wind of it?”

Draco raised his hands, as if to concede defeat. He kissed her belly, and rose, moving to retrieve his clothes from the floor.

Hermione found her dressing gown and sat at the edge of the sofa. Draco dressed, and she tried not to watch him. When he was ready, however, he still looked quite unkempt, like a man who’d driven a woman mad and brought her back again.

He did not approach her again, but said his goodbye with bow and a leer. Hermione rolled her eyes and blew him a kiss. She watched him walk toward her Floo and listened to him leave.

As she ran herself a bath, it occurred to her that Draco had held fast to the idea of their future together. She stopped herself from thinking about it. She tried not to think about her wedding ring sitting in her jewellery box. She tried not to think about the kids she and Ron had imagined. She tried to live in the present; her tried and true way of surviving it all. Hermione dipped below the very hot water, determined to hold onto the beautiful relief Draco had given her.


	4. Chapter 4

_Friday  
10 October, 2025_

After a harrowing day at work, Hermione came home, curled up around a hot water bottle, and strove to burrow into her couch. Her period had come on hard and fast, making her rue all the fun she’d been having over the last few weeks.

On the whole, she didn’t really mind being on. Hermione liked to think that it was a good reminder that nothing lasts forever, that there’s always another chance. However, with Draco talking about permanence and Scorpius in the picture now, she wasn’t quite as sure.

Scorpius had sent an owl to her at work, but she begged off, citing physical maladies. Let his father fill in the details, if he must.

Hermione was glad she was not pregnant. This month, especially, would have been terrible. Could she continue to fuck Scorpius if she were pregnant with his brother or sister? Could she continue to fuck Draco if she were carrying his grandchild?

These ideas, which Hermione had been trying quite successfully to ignore, crept in as she tried to relax.

Could she continue to fuck both of them? Either of them? Something told her ‘no,’ even though she was enjoying herself quite a bit.

Could she go back to a solitary life? Could she go back to being Aunty ‘Mione, especially now that the kids were all nearly grown?

Anything was possible, Hermione supposed.

Well, not playing third-wheel to Ginny and Harry. Nope. No. Never. Those two were like teen-agers, even now.

There was always her job. That thought made her groan, and she Summoned a glass jar just to throw it at the wall.

Bloody Ronald and his bloody ideas. _Confund the examiner. What’s the worst that could bloody happen?_

Hermione wiped her eye a bit. She abandoned the couch and tidied the broken glass with a wave of her wand. Then, she got a bottle of whisky from the cabinet, grabbed her wedding album, and went to bed.

After changing into a Chudley Cannons jerkin, she pulled the cork from the bottle with her teeth, spitting it away from her. It was a nice bottle, a left-over from a night with Draco weeks ago, and there wasn’t too much left. She put the bottle to her mouth and drank it all down.

It burned the back of her throat, and she wiped her eyes again. Hermione crawled into bed. Taking one pillow to curl around completely, she laid on her side and set the photo book to levitate beside her.

Ronald had been so handsome, and he and Harry looked like two stunned kids. Harry and Ginny had gotten engaged first, but they eloped in secret while planning the biggest wedding the wizarding world had ever seen. Everyone was donating this or that to thank Harry for defeating Voldemort; it would have been impossible for a simple affair.

So, Hermione and Ron had gotten married second in reality, but first publicly.

Hermione turned the page. She had worn her grandmother’s dress. It was all hand-made lace and very old-fashioned. It looked just Victorian enough to pass for robes, but it had been her heirloom dress.

Ginny and Luna were her maids, and the three of them all waved out at her with a mix of pure hope and pure relief. They had all been so young.

Letting the book drop to the bed, Hermione rolled away and let her tears fall. Luna had her twins and Ginny’s family was all grown, nearly. Hermione felt like an island in a beautiful archipelago, but an island nonetheless.

She was old. Life was continuing to move on without her. She felt alone. Hermione swallowed and pressed her face into the pillow.

“You get so sullen with your monthly, Granger.” Draco’s voice sounded behind her.

She froze, knowing that he was in her doorway, probably leaning, arms crossed, looking too bored to be concerned. Unfortunately, time did not swallow her up. Instead, she hiccoughed, and it was tasted of a full-on crying jag mixed with whisky.

When Draco spoke again, she could hear him smiling. “I’ve told you to just come to mine so you don’t put yourself through this.”

“Fuck off.” Hermione hid her face in the pillow.

“I shan’t, which you know perfectly well.”

Hermione let herself feel relieved. A warm flat hand smoothed across her back and then strong arms were hoisting her up, pulling the pillow from her clutches. When she was on her feet with Draco standing behind her, he kissed her neck.

“How much did you have?”

“Not that much.” Hermione leaned back into his chest as his arms encircled her. “I just needed _something_.”

Draco urged her to walk toward the standing mirror near her wardrobe. “What you need is shelter, not to let yourself… grieve unproductively.”

His hands roses to her breasts, which he knew full well were heavy and sensitive. He cradled them gently in his hands, strumming his thumbs just over her nipples until she whispered his name.

Then, he moved his hands down her sides, pulling her shirt so it was taut over her body. “What was it this time? Everyone has children but you? Weasley’s lack of foresight?”

Hermione dropped her chin and turned away. She was ashamed of treating herself so shabbily with her cruel thoughts. She sighed and said, “All of it. Just… everything.”

“You have plenty of time, Granger. You know that old Muggle rhyme about the old woman and the shoe? It’s actually a cruel riddle about a witch who came from money but ran off with a Muggle and had too many children. My great-great-great-great aunt on the Black side, you know.”

Hermione scoffed.

“You don’t believe me? Let me prove it to you. I’ll put a bun in your oven every year until we’re eighty.”

“Draco-o-o!” Hermione rolled her eyes and tried to turn around.

He didn’t let her. “Look at that witch in the mirror. What a fucking dish. Nice legs, exquisite cunt, I know. Breasts so full, deliciously heavy right now. High cheek-bones and little fairy shoulders. All I think about is fucking you.”

“That’s not true,” she retorted with a smile.

Draco’s teeth scraped over her earlobe. “Granger, you have no idea.” He began to move again, walking her toward the mirror before setting her hands on it to stabilise herself there. She was bent just a bit, emphasising the drop of her tits and the slope of her waist. Then, Draco put his hands on her arse. He moved his thumbs to rub where he knew her muscles would be tight.

Hermione keened. At first, her body flinched away, but Draco had done this many times for her, and he knew how to help her relax. He stayed at it for a long while.

When he was done, his hand came down on her arse with a smart sting. Hermione jumped a bit, rubbing her thighs together and smoothing her hand over her arse.

She frowned: Draco was collecting things and putting them in a bag.

“Quiet, Granger. You’re coming home with me. My bathtub is larger than yours. You can soak. Mipsy is making all of your favourite things. My son is sulking as though this is all my doing. No argument.”

“But –” Hermione looked at the rumpled bed with her wedding album and her pillow.

Draco retrieved the album from the bed and put it in the bag as well. He moved to her jewellery box, plucked up the rings and necklace and the tiny diamond earrings he knew Ron had given her, and dropped them in a velvet pouch from his pocket.

Finally, he wrapped her in her dressing gown, Chudley Cannons and all, and led her to the Floo. “Bakewell pudding awaits you, ready to battle all your rampant hormones.”

Hermione pursed her lips. “I do like a Bakewell.”

“You love a Bakewell. Go before I shove you.”

“Fine.” Hermione said, throwing the powder in the Floo and stepping through.

* * *

The next morning, Hermione woke up to a breakfast of clotted creams and berries and pastries and all sort of sinful, fatful, scrumptiousness she could imagine. She reviewed all of this while she was propped up on a luxuriously excessive amount of pillows. On her breakfast tray, there was also another dose of lovely pain potion. It was completed with three stems of marigolds, freshly cut.

She supposed this _was_ better than waking up to a hangover and toast and jam.

Draco had set her up in a guest room last night. She’d never been in this one before, but it did have a lovely bath and a lovely view and a lovely bed.

Hermione picked her way through the tray, tearing off bits of croissant and nibbling everything until she was quite full. She took the potion and then rang the tiny copper bell that rested on the corner.

Mipsy popped in. Hermione thanked her with many compliments. Removing her flowers from the tray, she handed it to the elf. Mipsy popped out.

Just as she was finished with a long stretch from her toes to her fingertips, a quiet knock came at her door.

Hermione smiled and invited Scorpius in. He _was_ rather darling. When he came through the door, he was holding more marigold blooms. However, he did not come in much further than the door could swing open. He looked rather awkward and nervous, for a Malfoy.

“Good morning, Scorpius.”

“Mrs Weasley,” he replied with a smile and nod. “Are you well?”

“Perfectly, apart from my menstruation.” Her words shocked him, and she smiled. Young men could run into a pit full of acromantulas, but talk about menses and they were completely lost. “Thank you, again, for your lovely invitation yesterday. I was in much worse shape or I would have accepted.”

“It’s over now, then?”

Hermione shook her head. He had no idea. She suspected that his mother just disappeared or had Scorpius disappear during her period so none of this ever need be addressed. “I have a day or two more of erratic moodiness, cramping, and of course, shedding my uterine wall. –But your father has supplied me with a lovely potion and an array of fattening foods and even made me orgasm last night before tucking me in, so I’m feeling much better.”

Scorpius stood perfectly still as her words hit him. Hermione let him process what was happening and threw the covers from her. She wanted back in that fabulous tub, floating in scented and oiled water while she still felt floaty from the potion.

Across the room, Scorpius cleared his throat. “You had sex during… your time?”

“Not last night, but we have. There’s nothing wrong with it.” Hermione moved from the bed, feeling a little bit of pain in her lower back. “Would you like to?”

“No,” Scorpius blurted. Heat rose in his cheeks, and he looked away from her for a moment. The next, his eyes were scanning over her body. “How are you nude?”

Hermione smiled and turned to show him her arse. “I use a menstrual cup. They are very discreet, functional, practical. My favourite option.”

“So, there’s a cup in your…”

“In my vagina, Scorpius. And, yes. Are those marigolds for me?”

“Yes, Mrs Weasley.”

“Bring them here, then, and I’ll add them to the others.”

Having an obvious task seemed to help Scorpius find himself. He moved forward, offering her the flowers, which she took. Hermione gave him a kiss on his cheek and smiled.

Then, it felt as if her insides shifted, and she was reminded that she wanted a bath. “If you’re not here to fuck me, was there something else you needed?” Hermione moved to put the new flowers in her vase.

“I was concerned.”

“That’s very sweet of you. I’m going to have a bath. Would you care to watch?”

Scorpius’s eyes lit up, and his confidence grew again. “Very much.”

“Excellent. Will you run it for me while I pop into the loo?”

Again, knowing exactly what to do was just what he needed. They parted ways as Hermione went to the water closet and Scorpius went to the room with the bath. When Hermione found him, the enormous tub was full of steaming water, and the air smelled of rose oil and passion flower tea. She could see petals and bits of passion flower floating on the water.

Scorpius was reclining on a bench near a large window, watching her. Hermione walked over to him, pulling his chin to hers for kiss. He was aggressive, almost desperate for her, and she let him take and take.

But the bath wouldn’t have itself, so Hermione pulled away. Her lips were tingling from the snog, and she whispered, “Well done, Mr Malfoy.”

Sinking into the hot water was just what she needed, and she couldn’t resist going all the way under. In this particular ‘tub’, she could be completely submerged and vertical in the very centre. It was so luxurious, so _Malfoy_.

When she came up, Scorpius was watching her with a burning focus. Hermione waved and began to float on her back. Steam rose from her tits, and she noticed they shone a bit with the oil in the water.

Scorpius noticed as well.

Hermione turned over in the water to give him a view of her arse. Then, she manoeuvred to the side of the tub nearest to him. She wiped her face with a cloth and poured herself a glass of water from a carafe nearby.

"Mrs Weasley," Scorpius began, moving to sit up and face her. "Why don't you look as relaxed after we have sex as you do after a night with my father?"

Hermione stared into space a moment, twisting her hips and feeling her muscles relax. "You and your father have different skill sets. Try not to compare. You do a lovely job. I quite like when you fuck me, Scorpius.”

He must have been getting very turned on: his hands came to rest on his trousers near his crotch.

Hermione smiled. “I find riding your cock to be very erotic, Scorpius.” She moved to where there was a bench in the side of the tub and knelt there. Her tits came out of the water, and she lifted them in her hands. “You should be very proud of your cock, young man.”

Scorpius’s cheeks were bright red, now, but he had moved to open his trousers and free his cock. It was, indeed, very nice, and very hard.

“Will you have a wank while I watch? Do you wank often?” Hermione asked, staring at his naked erection. Of course, she knew that he likely wanked as often as was possible. Her best friends were boys, after all. However, because he was so unused to hearing such things, she knew it had an effect on him.

“You’ve changed the subject. Don’t think I’ll forget so easily.” Scorpius began to strip; the heat and humidity coming off the tub had made it quite warm in the room.

Hermione watched him and considered her answer. Or rather, how best to answer. Fucking was all well and good, but coming was much, _much_ better.

"I want to know." Scorpius stood and knelt beside the tub. Hermione reached for his cock, holding it in her wet, oiled hand. Scorpius thrust into her fist, small as it was. Then, he began cupping her breast in his whole hand. He took a steadying breath. "May I watch you with him?"

It was Hermione’s turn to blush. She’d never been with two men at once. She thought she might like it, but father and son would truly be outrageous. However, it would certainly be the best of both worlds. Scorpius could learn some technique, and Hermione was sure Draco would not want to be out-fucked compared to his son.

Imagining Draco’s cock in her mouth while Scorpius plundered her made her nipples tighten. She licked her lips and met Scorpius’s eye. “Ask your father.”

It seemed that both felt well out of their intellectual comfort zone with the curious allowance. Scorpius, however, was still hard and now rubbing his shaft teasingly. He turned, moving to sit with his feet in the bath.

Hermione dripped more of the oiled water from her hand to his cock. Scorpius hummed and she smiled and hummed as well.

“Now, I want to know: do you think about me when you wank?”

“Of course.”

Hermione moved near his ear. “Who else?”

“Mrs Weasley!”

Relenting, Hermione distracted both of them by wrapping her hand around his cock, stroking it. Scorpius lifted his hand and delicately touched her hair.

“Scorpius. It’s a period. I’ve not turned to glass.” To prove her point, Hermione shook her hair so that her curls would bounce for him and sucked his middle finger into her mouth. She tugged on his cock as well. She experimented with her grip, turning and twisting her wrist, watching his face to learn what he liked.

When her hand became cold, Hermione pulled it back into the water. She floated away from Scorpius, who whined when his fingers and cock became neglected. Hermione ducked under the water, doing a little somersault and twisting in the glorious bath. When she came up, Scorpius was wanking in earnest.

“Good boy,” Hermione smiled and moved to float between his legs again.

Scorpius breathed out through his teeth. It seemed he had mixed feelings about being Hermione’s good boy.

She lifted one swollen, sensitive breast enough so that she could lick the water droplet from it. Scorpius watched, and Hermione slid her tongue back and forth across her nipple. Then she moved to the other breast, noting how his pace increased and his grip on his cock tightened.

“Have you thought about fucking me, Mr Malfoy? Ploughing my pussy when you know you make me so wet?” Hermione asked, pausing to rub her breasts together for him. “Or my mouth, Scorpius? I think having your cock in my mouth sounds lovely.” She leaned forward, her mouth just a few inches from where Scorpius was fisting his cock. Hermione tried to lick the head when it popped from his hand. “Or my arse, Scorpius? Do you want to fuck me every way you can think of?”

Her mention of her arse seemed to startle him, and his breath caught when Hermione blinked at him, her mouth delicately open near his cock. It was too much, and he shot his load. Hot streams of his seed covered Hermione’s face in wave after wave. Scorpius grunted and groaned, milking his cock for what it was worth.

Hermione simply closed her mouth and her eyes, smiling smugly over her victory. When it all seemed to be over, she opened one eye to find Scorpius on his back and panting softly. He looked at her and started to apologise. Hermione waved her hand at him and ducked under the water once more, rubbing the mess away.

When she re-emerged, Scorpius was sitting up and forward. He reached for her and pulled her body as close to his as he could. “Mrs Weasley, how did you get to be so sexy?” he asked before devouring her mouth, rubbing his tongue against hers, and pushing his hand into her hair. His arms tightened around her, and she felt his deflated cock twitch against her belly.

It must have been a rhetorical question, because they snogged for some time. When Hermione pulled away to draw her breath, Scorpius leaned forward and slid into the tub as well. They spent the better part of an hour in there, Scorpius always keeping Hermione in arm’s reach, if not in his lap, her breasts floating against his chest.

It was only when Scorpius was so hungry for lunch that he resigned himself to getting out and eating with Hermione at the table in her sitting room. After, when she had needed another potion for her cramps, Scorpius insisted that she use his chest for a pillow, picking up one of the books at her bedside to read until they both fell asleep.

* * *

When Draco came to her after dinner, Hermione was curled into a tight ball in the middle of her bed in the guest room. She was on her side, ruing her ovaries. Usually her cycle got easier as it went, but not this time.

Draco lowered the lamps in the room, and then moved to sit at the head of the bed. She had curled and twisted enough that when he sat in front of the pillows, he could just reach over and rub her back, which is how he began.

His thumbs found the tight spots in Hermione's lower back and smoothed firm circles there. After a long while, they moved up her spine to where she was chronically sore from leaning over her desk for long hours at work. When he was finished there, he moved up to her neck, first at her shoulders and then at the base of her skull.

Draco did not rush this. He had told her countless times that his wife had never let him touch her more than was necessary. Hermione couldn't imagine why, and she let Draco put his hands wherever he liked for as long as he liked. It was rather nice for her, anyway.

By the time his thumbs were smoothing behind her ears and down her jaw, Hermione had already begun to uncoil. She knew what he wanted (and would get), and even the idea that he was interested right now made her feel so much better. When Draco pressed her shoulder so she would lay on her back, Hermione was more than happy to roll over.

Strong hands attended to the muscles at the front of her shoulders. They didn't linger.

Hermione smiled. Draco wanted her tits, and soon enough, he had her dressing gown pulled open so he could see them.

"Delicious."

Draco's mouth was over her chest, sucking each one into his mouth with a practiced amount of tension and teeth. He knew she was extra sensitive, extra _responsive_ right now. He needn't put in too much effort. He persisted until her hips twisted, unfurling a bit more as her knees stretched out.

"I want your tits full of milk, Granger," Draco demanded as he moved to kneel over her. "You've become a bloody goddess to me since you started fucking my son."

Then, he began all over again, and Hermione began to lose herself to his lips and tongue and teeth. When his mouth was on one breast, his hand was on the other, squeezing or pulling her nipple gently. Her body began to writhe underneath his, and as she undulated, Hermione felt her body relax even more. She rested her hands on his shoulders.

Draco licked up her neck, scraping his teeth softly on her jawline, before pulling her earlobe between his lips. His hands came up to rest on the bed above her shoulders. For a moment they weren't touching at all, and then he pressed his mouth into hers. Shy at first, Draco built the kiss until it was a major snog, stealing Hermione's breath as he became ever more passionate.

He was unrelenting and didn't stop until Hermione pushed his shoulders and pulled her head away to catch a breath. Draco reached down and moved one of her legs with his hand under her thigh, and then the other. He moved to kneel between her knees and then pulled a thick, black towel from where he'd left it by the pillows.

Hermione smiled at him and assisted as he spread the towel under her hips. Then, with two fingers and his thumb, he plucked the little cup from inside her body, and set it in a crystal bowl on the table by the bed.

"I've never fucked a pregnant woman, Granger."

Draco met her gaze, his eyes perfectly serious, meaning unfolding from his words.

Hermione's heart thudded in her chest. His eyes were dark, flat grey, and they never looked away from her, even as he rubbed the tip of his cock over her labia to her very sensitive clit. He teased her like that for a long time, but Hermione couldn't look away.

When he finally pushed into her, they both moaned, breaking the visual connection as they gained the deep sexual connection. Inside of her, Hermione felt full, and as he began to pump, her core went from a tight, painful tension to a languid, relaxed attention.

As she opened her eyes, Draco was moving to brace himself over her. His face was sneering, proud and possessive. His hips took up a rhythm, a deep stroke that pushed all of him into her each time. It wasn't fast, but it was thorough, and after everything else, Hermione felt ecstasy building. She moved her feet to hook behind his thighs.

They stared at each other all the while. Draco looked impatient for her to finish, but his hips were unhurried. Hermione wanted to come as well. She wanted to feel good after feeling so badly since yesterday, but she wanted Draco to make her come, too.

"Give it to me," he whispered.

"So close," Hermione promised.

Draco dropped his mouth to her breast again, sucking hard now, demandingly. Hermione screamed, shocked that he was being so cavalier as much as it felt _so_ good. He switched sides, and Hermione arched her back, moaning. The adjustment was just what she needed, Draco's cock now stroking her at just the right angle. Everything in her body tensed, and ecstasy washed though her.

As she was finishing, Draco followed her over the edge. He sealed his mouth over hers, driving in as deeply as he could.

He laid inside of her and on top of her until their breath was regular again. When Draco did pull out, he used the towel to wipe himself and clean her up. Her thighs were smeared with blood at the top, and he attended to it all with care.

Hermione took a deep breath, knowing she could just relax while Draco took care of the next few minutes. A fire roared to life in the fireplace, and Draco, as per the usual, threw the towel with her blood and his seed into it. She imagined him leaning at the mantel, watching it burn, his body lit by the firelight.

The fire continued to burn, and Hermione heard the soft patter of Draco's feet as he went to draw the bath. The rush of water sounded, and Hermione felt a bit guilty for a second bath in the same day. However, Draco would want to wash before going to bed, and while he didn't usually fuss over her, Hermione suspected that he was not precisely himself at the moment.

True to her suspicion, Draco led her to the steaming, full tub with one hand on her back and her hand in his. He stepped in first, turned and lifted her in as well. That possessive intensity never waned, and he slid his fingertips over every inch of her: between her toes, under her arms, past her cunt again and again as his seed was washed from her.

His attention made Hermione shiver. She made no attempt to hide it, not that she could have. As Scorpius had, Draco kept her in arm’s reach.

“I’d like to kiss you, but I feel…” Draco whispered, his eyes narrowing in a guilty fashion. “You’ve already got a lot going on.” He slid his fingers down her belly, as though he was trying to sense where her ovaries might be.

Hermione pivoted toward him and held his shoulders in her hands. “We can a bit, but I’m quite tired.” Then she pressed her mouth against his. “I’ve spent the whole day in this bath or in that bed. I should be restless.”

“I disagree. I want you to want to be here at all times.”

“Draco…” Hermione said with a sigh and tried to pull away.

Strong hands grabbed her hips and pulled them back. The tip of Draco’s hard cock brushed against her opening. He whispered, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so serious. Just stay here in my lap a bit longer.”

Hermione touched his mouth and rolled her eyes in concession. “Is that a broom in the tub or are you happy to see me?”

Draco was becoming breathless. “I took a potion before I came in. I want to spend all night with you, fucking.”

“You didn’t have to–” Hermione straddled him and slid down onto his cock. “–do that.”

“I want to. You have no idea how captivated I am by you. And it’s just for tonight. I’m not planning to artificially supplement for our entire time together.”

Hermione opened her mouth to reply but opted to say nothing. Instead, Draco’s arms wrapped around her, and she began rolling her hips down, pushing his cock into her and watching Draco’s face while he watched hers. The steam of the bathtub rose around them, and the gentle roll of the water around them made it feel as though they were alone in the world. Time fell away. It was just the two of them and a complete connection.

Like so many times before, Draco managed to stoke a fire of ecstasy in her. Hermione came, trembling in the water as she kept the same rhythm on Draco’s cock. As she finished, he leaned forward to kiss her, swallowing her last moans as his began. He came, holding her hips down and burying himself deep inside her. He snogged her for a long time after, until Hermione was dizzy and felt drunk.

It could not last forever, though. Draco succumbed to post-coital oversensitivity and had to push Hermione away. She floated back to the other side of the tub. Separated, they caught their breath.

Hermione could not take her eyes away, nor could she stop the smile that spread across her face. Draco spelled the lights low and called for Mipsy. “Turn down the bed, please, and bring some fruit and cheese.”

The elf popped away. Draco moved to climb out of the tub. He wrapped a dressing gown around himself and helped Hermione from the tub and into one as well. When they were out of the bathroom, a silver tray of fruit and cheese was waiting.

They didn’t speak again, and Hermione was certain that something was weighing on Draco’s mind. He watched her dutifully, but he wasn’t carefree at all. It made her curious, but not enough to break through the beautiful way her body felt.

By the time they’d finished eating, it was quite late. Hermione moved to the bed, and Draco followed her. Just as had happened the last time she’d slept over, Draco pulled her close as he settled into bed. She was about to ask if everything was in order, when Draco extinguished the lights.

Certain that it was nothing that couldn’t wait for the morning, Hermione let the matter go, falling asleep right away.


	5. Chapter 5

_Friday  
17 October, 2025_

Hermione hadn't even gotten her fork into Ginny's perfectly-good-but-not- _as_ -good-as-last-week's Bakewell Tart when James cleared his throat and made an absurd announcement: "Scorpius is really worried about his dad being single."

In the corner of her eye, she saw Al shaking his head at how foolish, some might say how _Gryffindor_ , his brother had just sounded.

James, however, was undaunted. "Scorpius says that his dad is even consulting a match-maker. And, it made me think, Aunty 'Mione, that maybe you should see a match-maker, too. I mean, if Mr Malfoy is, then you could, too. Mr Malfoy is even having a Masquerade for Halloween for some of the match-maker’s clients. You could go to that and, maybe, meet someone."

Everyone but Al was staring at James. Al was now cradling his head in his hands.

Hermione smiled. "Does Scorpius also think that Mr Malfoy and I might like to date?" It wasn't a kind smile, but James didn't notice. He also didn't know she was already invited to the masquerade, and that her invitation and a beautiful mask were now sitting on her coffee table waiting for her return decision.

"Well, Scorpius did say you were prettier than he'd expected, and that his father would be lucky to land someone like you."

The dishware rattled a bit when Al's head hit the table once, twice, three times. James threw a roll at him. "What I’m saying is that we just want you to be happy."

Al threw his arms in the air and groaned.

Hermione turned her head to the side a bit. "Happy? As in _not single?_ As in, _'Find a man, Aunty'?"_

That silenced the table, and everyone tended to their dessert. Hermione finished first, but waited patiently for everyone to finish. Then, she opened her mouth to excuse herself for the evening, but Harry _Bloody_ Potter spoke first.

"It's not such a bad idea, actually, Hermione. You know, maybe Ferret-Face isn't so bad. Scorpius seems like an all right kid."

"Draco's not even that bald," Ginny added.

Harry nodded and set his hand behind Ginny's shoulders. "I know you've not had any luck, and the press and all, but maybe now is the time."

"So!" Al interjected. "Aunt Hermione. How's work? Are you enjoying your new office since your promotion?"

Hermione turned to Al and laughed. His eyes widened, and they shared, not for the first time, a moment of understanding over what dolts the family could be.

Picking up her napkin and tossing it onto the table, Hermione stood up. "Well, since you lot think it's a great idea for me to shack up with _Draco Malfoy_ , I think I'll just pop right over there. Albus Severus, would you open the Floo for me?"

Around the table, everyone looked as though Hermione had just declared herself a Death Eater. James looked cautiously victorious, as though he'd truly solved a great mystery. Harry and Ginny had their eyes narrowed in disbelief.

"Al! Come on! Let's get me to Mr Malfoy's! I'm sure he'll be quite pleased to hear of Scorpius's consideration, as well."

Finally, Al jumped up and ran to the Floo. Hermione waved to the table and started to follow.

That's when Harry stood up and said, "Wait, Hermione. I mean, that's not what I meant! I just- I know you two work together sometimes..."

Hermione didn't stop for him. She asked Al for the address for Draco's place, and then she took up a fistful of Floo powder. She repeated the address, pretending it was the first time she'd ever travelled there before. As she stepped in, she thought she heard Harry shout something, but she couldn't say what.

She arrived in Draco's receiving room, and Mipsy popped in right away.

"Hello, Mipsy. How are you this evening?" Hermione dipped her head a bit to the elf.

"Mipsy is well, Miss Hermione. Is you wanting Master Draco?"

Hermione didn't get a chance to answer. Scorpius, as though he had been standing guard, came into the room. "That's enough, Mipsy. Thank you."

Hermione smiled at Scorpius, the same sharkish smile she'd given James and Lily. "Good evening, Mr Malfoy."

"James bolloxed it up, then."

Hermione took some slow steady steps across the room. "As only a Potter could."

Scorpius feigned remorse, heaving a great sigh.

He did not, however, anticipate Hermione's wand, which whipped out, and she cast a spell to force Scorpius to walk backward. She prowled forward, and the space between them shrank to nothing when his back was against the door. Hermione walked her fingers up his chest to his chin. With her thumb and forefinger, she pulled his chin down. "A little birdy told me you think I'm pretty."

Scorpius reached for her wrists, moving to spin her so she was against the wall. "I think you are gorgeous. Sensual." His eyes raked down her body, and he pressed into her. "I could hardly tell James as much."

Her ire was up. With a twist of her hip and a turn of her foot, Scorpius was on the floor. His grip held, though, and Hermione fell right on top of him. She spun her forearms around to grab Scorpius's, and forced his hands over his head.

"Mrs Weasley, I must insist you calm yourself," Scorpius whispered.

"Make me." Hermione slithered down his body until she found his half-hard cock. "You seem to have plenty of ideas of what I should be doing. Why don't we put a successful one to service." Sliding her hands to his biceps, Hermione pushed herself up so she could straddle him. Then, she began to strip off her own clothes.

Scorpius stilled her hands. "Mrs Weasley. Surely, there's somewhere more comfortable where we could..."

" _Divesto!_ " Hermione declared with a smile. Within moments, the both of them were nude to all and sundry and the Floo network. "Scorpius, how is it that you are so bold in James's ear, and yet when a willing woman wants you to shag her into the parquet floor, you can't be arsed?"

Scorpius stilled beneath her. His wrists were in her hands, and his lip curled as he absorbed the meaning of her challenge.

Feeling dangerous, Hermione leaned forward. "Do you think James Potter would have a problem shagging me all night, should the chance arise?"

That was all it took to dissolve his will. Hermione watched him get obviously jealous, colour rising in his cheeks. With lightning speed, Scorpius disengaged her hold of him and tugged her arms up, pulling her so that her mouth was aligned with his. He wrapped a palm behind her neck, and pulled her into a devouring kiss.

Meanwhile, his other hand ran down her back to her arse. It was hard and possessive, and it made Hermione wet to be taken in such a way. She tried to keep up with his tongue in her mouth and his teeth on her lips, but he was too aggressive.

Not until he had rolled them over so Hermione was beneath him on her back did he pull back. "I see no reason to theorise about your shagging anyone outside of this family," Scorpius growled. He positioned his cock at her opening and sheathed himself inside of her.

It was deep and hard, and Hermione felt so full. She moaned until Scorpius covered her mouth with his once more, kissing and fucking her as hard and as fast as he could. Every thrust pushed her a little way across the floor. He kept at her until he was out of breath.

Scorpius broke away from her with a frustrated grunt. He grabbed her thighs and pushed them up, exposing her core before beginning again. He was driving down into her now, pushing so deep and pounding into her. He seemed to like this better.

Hermione watched the handsome young man work over her. She ran her hands over his chest, around and down his back, finally cupping his arse. She felt insanely powerful and sexy, even folded up as she was. She watched his face change, falling apart without warning as he came inside of her. He cried out, and then his body crumpled on top of hers.

They stayed like that, Hermione combing her fingers through Scorpius's sweaty hair as he lay in the nest of her thighs and belly. When their breathing had slowed, Hermione turned her head to the side.

Draco was standing there, observing them as though they were a fine work of sculpture. Their eyes met. He did not smile or frown or do anything at all. Hermione could only guess that he had seen the whole thing. He lifted his hand, drawing her attention to the tent in his trousers, which he adjusted as she watched. Draco's gaze shifted, then, and it looked quite a bit like Scorpius had just before he'd speared into her.

Hermione touched Scorpius's shoulder so that he would look to where is father was standing. It was impossible to watch them both, but Draco's look was stern and proud. Scorpius pulled his cock from Hermione and snogged her again as her mouth opened with her gasp. When he finished, he rolled away. Scorpius looked to his father and preened under his attention.

"To your room," Draco said to break the quiet. He wasn't looking at Scorpius, however.

Hermione smiled. "It seems I haven't any clothes."

"You should have thought of that."

"Shall I clean up, at least?"

"You may clean up in your bath."

Hermione felt her skin get hot. Beside her, Scorpius began to protest, but his father's hand stopped him. Draco offered that hand to Hermione, helping her to stand. She felt a distinct wetness at the top of her thighs and stepped delicately, trying not to leave a trail of post-coital mess.

Draco walked a few steps behind her, and Hermione felt his eyes on her arse, on her mincing little steps, on her bare back. She felt her body get hot again, and her nipples crinkled with tightness. This was a different kind of sexual power. Provoking a young wizard like Scorpius was almost too easy. Each step she took with Draco was like foreplay in and of itself. She imagined his burning gaze and his sullen-seeming glare.

At last, she put her hand to the door knob of the room she’d used last week.

"Wait," Draco whispered before she could turn the knob.

Hermione froze.

Draco stepped behind her, his clothes barely touching her, whispering against her skin. "I have been having the most obscene fantasies and dreams. I've been fucking you through your whole life story. Sneaking into your bed after Krum. Fucking you in posh hotels while you date Weasley. You've been quite the tart in my imagination. Watching you with Scorpius..." He pushed the hair away from her neck and kissed her there, bracing his body on the door so only his lips met her skin.

Normally, Draco would be careful not to leave marks on her. They weren't hormonal teenagers, after all. As his mouth pulled down to her shoulder, she knew there would be bruises. She didn't care. It felt so good. He moved to the other side and nipped and sucked at her skin.

Hermione pushed her hips back and against his. She could feel his cock through his trousers, but not for long. His hands moved to her hips, and Draco held her body away from his. Then, he knelt behind her, his mouth tracing down her right side from the smallest part of her waist. Hermione stood as straight as she could, wanting his mouth all over her, and wanting to show him her body at its best.

He continued ever lower, until he was kissing her arse, and then his mouth was behind her knees. When he had somehow determined he'd tickled the backs of her knees enough, Draco used his hold of her hips to help lift himself so he was standing behind her once more.

Hermione was dizzy, drunk on Scorpius's thorough ploughing and Draco's teasing and touching. She reached to turn the doorknob again, but Draco stilled her hand.

His mouth was beside her ear. "Scorpius tells me that you'd allow him to watch us. Don't look, but he's at the end of the hall, observing us now. Is that what you wanted?"

"You told me you wanted him to learn something." Hermione turned her head and pressed her lips against Draco’s.

It was a shy kiss. This all was still bizarre and new. Draco was pulling their relationship into the open, and Scorpius was pushing the relationship along as well.

Draco accepted her kiss, allowing her to spin so they were facing each other. Hermione slid her hands over his shoulders, lacing her fingers behind his neck. Like this, he seemed disarmed. They snogged, but this was the sweet and timid Draco whom she had first encountered months ago, long before she'd ever even thought about Scorpius, let alone...

Between her belly and his, though, was still a hard rod. Draco broke the kiss, peeling her hands from behind him to hold her up against the wall. "Bloody siren. I have already wanked twice today, Hermione. Do you have any idea what you're doing to me?"

Hermione, feeling quite scandalous, widened her stance and looked up at Draco. "Shall we stop?"

With a mirthless chuckle, Draco released her and reached for the door knob. As he turned it, he said, "Don't be ridiculous."

Without the door to hold her up, Hermione fell back a step before turning into the room. Draco's hand slid down her side, and he said, "I've left something for you in your bathroom, if you'd like to wear it. Entirely up to you, of course."

Hermione could not begin to imagine what he had found for her, all things considered. She smiled back at him, but moved to the bathroom. She opened the door and found her surprise. It made her laugh and wonder what had come over him. "Very well, then." Hermione moved to close the door, and Draco caught her eye. She noticed he was dressed up as well, although she hadn't realised before, in her distraction.

It was as though the bath tub was a hot spring waiting for her. She hopped into the steaming water for a quick wash and then got ready. Hermione would have never guessed he would do this, would want her to dress up like this. She was also surprised at how easy it was to get into everything. Six years of wearing the same uniform, she supposed, gave her plenty of practice. From top to toe, Hermione was back in her school girl robes, Gryffindor emblem blazing.

Hermione tied her tie and looked at herself in the mirror. She wanted to up the ante, but she also wanted to stay true to the fantasy. She knew she hadn't been the prettiest girl in her year, but while things hadn’t improved vastly, she was doing better for herself. How to become that plain-faced witch?

On a shelf by the mirror were various lotions and potions. She found a cream that smelled of peaches, the sort of thing she would have worn in her fourth or fifth year. She rubbed it into her skin. Hermione pulled a mascara out of a little drawer where she kept some of her personal effects. She wanted to dry her hair a bit, but she had left her wand in the receiving room.

It was amazing what a little debauchery could make one lose track of.

She looked herself over in the mirror, feeling a little silly dressed this way after almost thirty years, but having fun with it as well. She didn't look so different, and not for the first time, wished her tits looked a bit better in this top. Not that a school uniform shirt should make a girl's tits look good, Hermione reasoned.

That was when inspiration struck. She reached down and pulled off her knickers. Hermione smiled. No one would know, until he did. Draco's reaction would be priceless.

Deciding that she was ready, Hermione emerged from the bathroom. Draco had turned down the lamps and the bed, and he was now leaning against a wall. His brooding gaze was set squarely to where she stood.

It was strange to see him in Slytherin robes. Draco looked very much the same and yet ever so different. She remembered the last year she'd been in school with him, how gaunt and tormented he had been. Now, his face was full around his sharp bone structure. His colour was warmed by the grey woollen school robe, and even his prefect badge shone in the low light.

"Well, well, well," Draco said in a snotty tone.

Hermione was catapulted into the past. "If you say that word, I'm leaving and not coming back. Ever."

Draco sneered. "I wouldn't dream of it." His eyes traced up and down her body. "I've outgrown my father's less-worthy ideas."

She knew that to be true, and Hermione was able to relax into the moment again. "It's a delight to know you are capable of independent thought, _Malfoy_."

"Aren't you a brave lion, here without your friends and all."

Hermione looked around the room, searching to build a scenario. "My interest in Quidditch practice and strategy can only hold for so long. Besides, I have something important to research." She smiled at the end: wasn't that what had started all of this to begin with?

Draco pushed away from the wall. "It's as though your knickers get wet for the Restricted Section, Granger."

"You're hardly privy to what's happening in my knickers, Fer-"

Hermione stopped herself before she said 'ferret face', but it was too late. It was hanging between them.

Draco's sneer turned into a smirk. Almost as though she'd set up the transition, he responded, "You do like weasels, though, don't you? If your eyes weren't set on a rather dull ginger, I think you'd find quite the list of suitors waiting."

"Ronald and I are just friends!" Hermione protested, even going as far as stomping her foot a bit.

"Don't lie, Granger. You're keen on him, and he has no idea, and you know it." Draco was close to her now, closer than he ever would have come to her in school. "You know what would get his attention, Granger?"

"You don't know what you're talking about." Hermione turned her face away from Draco.

"You should make him _jealous_. He takes you for granted, you know. Once he sees another bloke sniffing about–"

"That's disgusting, Malfoy. How perfectly _Slytherin_." Hermione scrunched her nose as if she were smelling something rotten.

Draco touched his finger to her tie just below the knot. "You're a crap liar, Granger. You always have been."

"I'm not lying," she whispered and looked up at him. Something about this made her _feel_ timid. Hermione couldn't help but play along.

"So, you don't fancy a snog with anyone but _Ronald Weasley_?" Draco asked, lowering his face toward hers.

Her heart was pounding in her chest. Hermione felt short of breath, adrenaline fuelling this bizarre reality where she was sixteen years old and Draco Malfoy, ferret king of Slytherin, was seducing the girl no one seemed to notice. She looked up at him and shook her head side to side.

"Ah, then, I should stop. That's what you want, is it?" Draco froze. His body was tense, arching over her.

Again, Hermione shook her head a bit. She absolutely did not want him to stop.

"Which is it? Shall we have a kiss or not?" Draco asked as he braced his arms on either side of the door.

Hermione blinked twice, and then popped up on her toes to kiss him. She pressed her mouth against Draco's, her hands just resting on his shoulders. He dove into the kiss as well, clearly shocked that she had jumped first. Hermione gulped him down, sucking his tongue into her mouth and massaging it with hers. She kept at it until she was breathing heavily and feeling rather light-headed.

Their lips pulled apart, and Draco moved his hands to a conservative position on her waist. Hermione wished his hands were on her arse or on her breasts. She was already quite aroused.

"Wicked tongue, Granger."

Hermione cleared her throat, and said, "If you can't keep up, Malfoy, maybe I should go find someone who can." She let her hands fall from his shoulders as she shrugged, making as if to leave.

Draco's hands tightened, holding her in place. "I haven't even begun. Your mouth is delicious. I should like to find out what the rest of you tastes like."

"It's nearly curfew."

"It's lucky, then, that I'm a Prefect, not to mention the fact that my father is on the Board of Governors."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Your father's power most certainly has no effect on my knickers, Malfoy."

"I should like to see those knickers."

This made Hermione's heart race for entirely different reasons. She just wanted him to lick her cunt already. He was rather good at it. Hermione reached down and grabbed her skirt on either side, lifting it so he could see what was beneath. Her palms began to sweat, and she rubbed them into her skirt as it rose higher and higher.

Draco craned his neck to see what she was doing. When he finally saw, he cleared his throat. He moved one hand, sliding his index finger along her slit, revealing how wet she had become. "Well, well, well."

Hermione swallowed, feeling heat rise in her cheeks.

"Planning to see the Weasel tonight, were you?"

"No," Hermione squeaked.

"Krum, then."

Hermione shook her head.

"Who then?"

She looked at him, caught out. She was 16 and 46 at once. Hermione opened her mouth, but her throat was dry. She couldn't even swallow.

"Say my name, and I will lick your pussy until you cry."

"Draco!"

"Get on the bed."

Hermione darted around him, pulling her shirt up and loosening her tie.

"Leave the skirt."

She climbed on the bed, turning over and facing him. "I need to squeeze my tits."

Draco grabbed her calves, hauling her to the edge of the bed. "Please do." Then, he knelt on the floor, his tongue quickly pushing into her.

Hermione got settled into a familiar position: her feet on his shoulders and her hands on her breasts. He was fucking her with his tongue as hard and as fast as Scorpius had just fucked her with his cock. Her fingers worked the buttons of her shirt, pulling it apart and grabbing her tits.

“Dear God,” Hermione groaned as he began to grind her pelvis between Draco’s nose and chin.

He grabbed her hips, kissing her clit and whispering a spell they had used before: her clit twitched. A long moment later it twitched again. Draco began to lick her there, chuckling darkly when he felt her pelvis echo the twitch.

His tongue returned to fucking her. The spell continued, teasing her clit at irregular intervals. Hermione’s toes clenched on Draco’s shoulders, and her fingers found her nipples, tugging them.

Then, Draco’s tongue slid from her opening, moving lower. Hermione’s thighs trembled. She could never believe that Draco Malfoy wanted to lick her arse, but he did. He absolutely did. He was lapping all along her most secret places.

The spell on her clit continued to increase, and Hermione pressed her feet onto Draco’s shoulders. Usually this sign that she was getting close would have Draco sliding his fingers into her quim, pumping and frigging her until she came apart around him.

Tonight, however, his hands moved behind her thighs, and Hermione found her legs folded over her once more. Draco stood up, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. He looked down at her with the imperious arrogance he’d had as an adolescent. “Delicious.”

“Draco, don’t tease. I’m nearly there.”

He smiled. His left hand slid the short distance from her knee to the opening in her shirt. Her tie was askew, half the buttons of her shirt were still together, and her tits were out of her bra where she had pushed it down. Draco palmed her left tit in his hand and stared into her eyes. “You haven’t accepted my invitation.”

Between her legs, Hermione’s clit twitched again. “What?” She licked her lips and blinked up at him.

“Tell me you’re coming to the masquerade. I will make your body shatter with ecstasy.”

“Yes, fine, I’ll come, just get back to it.”

Draco smiled. “So greedy.” He pulled his wand out and tapped it on the bed. The usual décor transformed into what could only be a Slytherin dorm bed, complete with curtains. “Your friends would never guess you’ve been begging me to make you scream, would they, Granger?”

The spell rippled through her clit, and Hermione quivered on the green bed cover. She thought of Harry and Ginny tonight.

“You look dead sexy with your tits out and your thighs spread for me.”

Hermione reached between her legs. She was so wet, so turned on. 

Draco’s hand came down, slapping her wrist. “You’ll not be frigging yourself, Granger. Unlike a certain weasel, I finish what I start.” He moved to kneel between her legs again, and again, he lapped at her at every angle.

Her thighs began to quiver, and her clit twitched faster, smaller, tighter vibrations. The tip of his tongue pushed into her, a slow tongue fucking in opposition to the magic happening all around. Hermione pressed her head into the mattress as her orgasm washed over her. Draco held her trembling thighs as her body was wracked with pleasure.

When she finished, Draco stood at the side of the bed. His stare was imperious and detached.

It didn’t bother Hermione. She looked up at him, batting her eyelashes and wiggling on the bed.

Draco watched her and licked his lips. When she had delighted him enough, he asked, “How are the Potters?”

“Oh, the usual,” Hermione said and stretched. “The boys were home for dinner. James recommended I use that same match-maker you use.”

“Oh?” Draco asked. He loosened his tie. Unlike Hermione, he was still fully dressed.

The boys’ uniform was not so far afield that it looked like a costume. Hermione liked the man who was revealed as he shed his oxford shirt, though. She nodded as she watched him work his cuff links.

Then, she took a deep breath. “Harry even said: _I know you and Draco work together sometimes._ As if that’s a reason to start dating someone.”

“I know what you mean. No one ever starts a relationship with someone they know from their work-life.” Draco replied with a straight face as he loosened his belt.

Hermione stuck her tongue out at him. “You know what I mean. Besides, it’s not as if I can just walk in here and date and have a regular relationship with you. We’re not kids. You’ve had your family. It’s not as if you can go around bonding to just any witch.”

“Hermione.”

“What? I’ve read so many Pureblood histories! I cannot waltz around, breaking my maiden-head or giving you your heir, now can I. It’s all absurd.” She crawled around the big bed and underneath the covers. When she was finished, she turned to him and asked, “Are you sleeping with me tonight or in your own bed?”

Draco crossed his arms and gave a smug smile. “Am I welcome in _your_ bed?”

“Yes. Of course you are. Why would you even ask?”

“You tell me,” Draco whispered. He did not give her a chance to answer, though. Instead, he got into the bed and wrapped his arm around her. He pulled her close, snogging her for a long time before saying goodnight.


	6. Chapter 6

_Friday  
24 October, 2025_

Hermione was not at family dinner this week. After last week’s fiasco, she needed a night to collect her thoughts.

Or, at least, that is what she had told Ginny by owl yesterday.

In reality, Draco had agreed to let Scorpius watch them. They had decided this week because Draco wanted to do it before the masquerade. They had decided on tonight because they wanted to give plenty of time this weekend in case something didn’t go well.

Hermione’s heart was racing. She flitted around her flat getting ready, but on the whole she was perfectly distracted. A warning bell jangled in the back of Hermione’s mind. _What could possibly go wrong when having a three-way with Draco Malfoy and his own son?_

Hermione’s nerves were making her nauseous. Out of patience for waiting, she Flooed to Draco’s house with whatever she had packed, unwilling to fret over this any longer.

Mipsy was waiting for her and showed Hermione to yet another unfamiliar set of rooms. There, Draco and Scorpius were waiting for her. They sat on separate chairs, as casual as could be.

Hermione closed the door behind her. She waved as she turned, her nerves getting the best of her.

“You see, Scorpius, even a goddess like Hermione Granger can be nervous,” Draco declared as he stood up.

“Weasley, Malfoy.” Hermione glared at him near the door.

That didn’t stop him. Draco walked over to her and lifted her hand to kiss her knuckles. He took the bag from her shoulder and dropped it by the door. Then, pulling her hand so they were standing chest to chest, Draco kissed her neck.

All the while, Hermione stared at Scorpius. He was watching intently. This was all really happening.

Draco’s hands rose and cupped Hermione’s breasts through her clothes. “Scorpius and I have been comparing notes, _Mrs Weasley_.”

Hermione startled at his words and turned her attention to Draco. He began pressing his hands over her body. It was familiar and comforting, and Hermione assumed a usual position, resting her head on his chest with her hands on his biceps. This kept her arms out of the way of his exploring hands.

“It seems as though he has not enjoyed all of your many delights,” Draco whispered. “I’m going to show you off to him tonight, Granger. Are you ready?”

That sent a shiver down her spine, and Hermione turned to lean back against Draco’s chest. His hands began to grab her arse and hips, her belly and tits. Her body opened up at last. Draco adjusted his position so they were facing Scorpius.

For just a moment, Hermione met Scorpius’s eye again. He was brooding, his cheeks flushed red and his hands gripping the arm rests of the chair. Then she leaned her head back and closed her eyes.

Draco began to unbutton her robes. He was slow, teasing. He pinched her nipples when his fingers neared. As her bra and knickers were exposed, he stroked them.

“Is your pussy wet?” Draco whispered in her ear.

Hermione nodded, but kept her eyes shut.

“Are you wet enough to shag, Mrs Weasley?” he asked again, for Scorpius’s benefit.

“Yes.”

“Are you wet enough to come, Mrs Weasley?” Draco pressed as her robes fell to the floor.

The air in the room was cold on her hot skin. “No. Draco, I need more.”

“Of course you do.” Then he pulled the cups of her bra down so her breasts fell free. He grabbed them, pulling and squeezing her nipples before starting a rhythm he knew she liked. “It took me weeks to learn what you like, didn’t it?”

“Oh, yes. More, Draco.” Hermione lifted her arms and held onto his shoulders behind her.

“Such a nymph, Mrs Weasley, pushing your tits out like that. You enjoy being fondled, don’t you?” Draco stopped squeezing her nipples and moved to massage her whole breasts. “You would let me do this for hours. You have, haven’t you?”

“Draco!” Hermione pushed her hips back, rutting against him as much as she could.

“Do you want more? Or do you want Scorpius to fuck you?”

Hermione’s eyes opened to find a very aroused Scorpius staring. His lip was curled almost to a snarl.

“You want both, don’t you?” Draco asked. He was acting peculiar, jealous even as he showed her off.

“Make me come, Draco.”

“As you wish.” Draco pulled her knickers down her thighs. She couldn’t spread her legs much like that, but Draco worked his fingers so that he could thrust them into her. He started whispering lewd things into her ear, and he kept milking her tit with his other hand. “Show him what your orgasm looks like, Mrs Weasley.”

Hermione worked her hips in time with Draco’s hand, and being watched so blatantly made her blood rush all over her body.

Draco moved his other hand from her breast to her clit, and he plucked at it. It didn’t work at first, but Hermione worked to smooth her breathing and focus on her core. She relaxed into the whole of her experiences with Draco.

He had made her come so many times. He wanted her to come every time. It was all he was really concerned with.

Her core began fluttering around Draco’s fingers, and he redoubled his efforts on her clit, and soon her body was arching away from him. Hermione let a long, low moan fall from her lips as the muscles in her legs and back stretched, quivering with ecstasy.

Draco’s hands pulled away from her quim, and he wrapped his arms around her torso. He stood, lifting her slightly as the last of her trembles subsided. Then one hand lifted and smoothed her hair to one side so he could kiss her neck.

Hermione got her feet on the floor and tried to turn and wrap her arms around him in return.

Draco chuckled and shushed her with her mouth against her neck. “Scorpius is watching…”

Lifting her head toward Scorpius, Hermione looked at him through a tumble of hair. His tongue darted across his lips, and he smirked when he caught her looking at it.

Hermione raised her hands to her breasts, giving them a lift and a squeeze before shaking her fingers through her hair. She moved forward, pulling away from Draco’s embrace. She raised a hand to waive her fingers at Scorpius, and then turned to Draco.

He was rumpled, but still fully dressed.

Hermione, her nerves ‘soothed’, remembered the program. Draco (and Scorpius) planned to stay dressed as long as he could, demonstrating some of the many ways he knew how to make Hermione reach a climax. When Hermione (or Scorpius) had had enough, Draco would step aside, and let Scorpius, unskilled as he was, shag Hermione into the bed.

Whether Draco would simply step aside and watch or leave entirely had not been determined. Further, Hermione had suspicions that it wouldn’t be as simple as that.

She looked between the two Malfoys and smiled. As requested, a pitcher of ice water awaited her on a table near the sofa. She kicked out of her knickers and stepped toward it, sitting with her legs tucked beneath her and removing her bra. Hermione poured herself a glass of water, drank it all, and poured another.

With the glass resting in her fingers, she returned her attention to the others. Both were obviously hot and bothered, and Hermione smirked to herself.

“Scorpius. Please understand that your father had to learn how to do all that. He certainly wasn’t as capable when we first…” Hermione finished with a turn of her free hand.

“Don’t you want to… shag?” Scorpius asked behind his calm, Malfoy veneer.

Hermione smiled. “Of course. But doing so would curtail an otherwise enticing affair.”

“You could just go again.”

Draco cleared his throat. “She could, perhaps, but I can’t. You wait – your youth won’t last forever.”

“I prefer this. You’ll find most women do, I suspect,” Hermione said and sipped at her water. “They’ll like shagging, of course, but that’s not what young witches are taught is ‘romantic’, or some such. You’ll be better served if you’re attentive to her sexual needs in other ways, and she’s more likely to reciprocate.”

Scorpius opened his mouth to speak but didn’t. Hermione smiled as he seemed to remember her pulling his knob with her oiled hand.

“Granger,” Draco said in a quiet voice.

It was deep and low, somehow catching Hermione’s attention in a less-than-conversational way. Her ears (and other parts) perked at the sound.

“Come and sit.” Draco sat back in his chair and put his arms on the rests.

Hermione glanced at Scorpius, noting how he looked like his father in the moment, but his attention was piqued as well. She set her glass on the tray on the table and walked the short distance. She stretched, teasing all parties with a languid movement before straddling Draco’s thighs. “Can we lower the lamps just a bit?”

Scorpius stood, waved his wand, and then adjusted his chair to a more advantageous position.

When he was settled, Hermione settled further onto Draco’s lap. She could feel Draco’s cock through his trousers, hard and ready for her. They shared a look.

Then, Draco bent his mouth to lick between Hermione’s breasts. Scorpius was in her peripheral vision, and he was leaning forward now, with his elbows on his knees. Heat rose in her skin, and then Draco’s hands were on her arse. They were possessive, grinding her hips into his cock.

Hermione swallowed, relaxing her neck and watching as Draco worshipped her tits with his mouth.

He was, as they say, a breast man. He kissed her chest all over, dallying up to her collar bone at times. Then he licked her nipples, which soon turned to lapping, and then sucking. By then, they were always hard and tight, hot when his mouth was on her and then cool when he pulled away.

Draco was teasing her tonight, not using his hands at all. They stayed firmly on her arse.

Hermione was not the type to sit idly by, though. After a few minutes, she pushed her fingers into his hair and slapped his face gently with her tits until Draco groaned.

The world had narrowed to just them, and Hermione teased her nipples in and out of his mouth. She was determined to drive him mad, and didn’t stop until his hand came down on her arse sharply.

Gasping, Hermione tugged his hair a bit in return. Draco took her left breast into his mouth, as much as he could, and stared up at her. Hermione’s head dropped back, and she began to rut against his hard cock.

Finally, Draco took a breast in each hand and began squeezing them, gently twisting her nipples and then roughly pulling them until Hermione shattered in his lap.

Her hands balled up to fists and hit his shoulders as her orgasm crashed through her. She rode his crotch as much as she could before crumpling on top of Draco. Hermione rested her head on his shoulder, catching her ragged breath.

Movement in the room caught her attention. Scorpius had moved to get himself some water. Hermione looked at him with her head cradled on Draco’s shoulder. There was an obvious tent in his trousers, and her pussy was so hungry.

Draco pushed his hands up her thighs and whispered, “But I haven’t even licked your cunt yet.”

Hermione ran her gaze up and down Scorpius for a moment. Then she turned her mouth into Draco’s ear. “You want to lick my cunt, don’t you?”

He always did. Draco may have needed time to learn how to use his hands on her, but his mouth and tongue had made her come from the start.

“You like making me orgasm in front of Scorpius?”

Draco dropped his chin in agreement.

Hermione sat up and moved her mouth to the other side to kiss his neck. When Draco turned his head to allow her more, she moved to his ear again, scraping her teeth over it. “You’re going to watch him fuck me, aren’t you?”

Draco swallowed.

Feeling fabulously uninhibited, Hermione smiled. “May I suck your cock while he does?”

Draco’s breath caught, but his hips pushed up into hers. He loved to hear her say unexpected things, and he loved to see her so privately debauched.

Scorpius returned his glass to the tray with quite a bit of noise. Hermione chuckled, pulling away from Draco and walking to meet Scorpius by the sofa. She moved her hands under his ears and pulled his mouth down in a kiss.

He had more finesse than usual, but it still wasn’t much. They snogged for a long time, although Scorpius never put his hands on Hermione. She pulled away and returned to her water glass, sitting on the sofa.

“It’s important to give your partner time to recover,” Draco declared. It sounded so parental, Hermione thought he might as well have said ‘it’s important to do you schoolwork well’.

“Everyone gets very sensitive after a climax.” Hermione looked between the two men, her mood markedly better than when she had arrived.

Scorpius turned away and adjusted his cock in his trousers. “What else is there to see?”

He sounded impatient, perhaps for more or perhaps to put his tool to use.

“Oh, the very best ‘what else,’ Son. We’ll move to the bedroom when Mrs Weasley is ready.”

That puzzled Scorpius, but he shrugged. With a bow to Hermione, he moved to the other room where another chair was already strategically placed.

Hermione shared a look with Draco. He shook his head, as if to say: clueless! Hermione rolled her eyes at him and rested the cold glass against her neck. Water dripped from the side, and she moved it down to each of her nipples.

Draco was enthralled.

She rubbed the glass back and forth, shivering a bit, but Hermione thrilled in Draco’s undivided attention.

“Naughty,” Draco said. He stroked his cock through his trousers. She had left a mark there, as well, rutting against him.

Hermione set her glass aside. She sat up straight, rubbing her breasts in her hands until they were warm and dry. Finally, she stood, moving to take Draco’s hand. Once he was standing, she sauntered into the bedroom.

She climbed onto the bed and turned to sit at the edge with her thighs apart. Draco knelt between her thighs, and Hermione moved her feet to his shoulders.

“Father. You aren’t going to-! I mean, that’s simply not done.”

Hermione was leaning back on her arms. “Oh, he very much is, Scorpius. You might recall I was doing the same for your father when you and I met.”

“I know, I just. Erm, I thought it was…”

Draco sat on his heels and turned toward Scorpius. His face was fixed with a stern frown. “All wizards perform cunnilingus, Scorpius, and I dare say all witches quite like it when it’s done well.”

“But! I mean, I heard-”

“I do not care to go into the details now, if at all, Scorpius. Suffice it to say, _all_ witches, even those determined to deny it.”

“Especially this witch,” Hermione said with a smile. She was fingering her pussy, spreading her labia apart, hoping to remind them what was supposed to be happening here.

Draco turned to look and became completely distracted. “You may watch or you may leave.”

Hermione tsked at him and dropped one arm to pat the bed beside her. “Sit here. You’ll see better, both what he does and my reaction.”

Scorpius walked the long way around the bed and crawled to sit where she had said. Draco shook his head but his lips soon found her thigh. He began kissing her, rekindling the heat that had been lost.

Hermione relaxed onto her back. Her fingers tickled over her body. She reached over with one hand and dragged her fingertips over Scorpius’s thigh. Then she settled in, humming a deep sigh when Draco’s tongue _finally_ pressed over her opening.

She was quite wet, and he lapped at her for some time. Beside her, Scorpius leaned forward to look, his curiosity over-ruling whatever protests he might have made. Hermione smiled. Draco’s hands were smoothing up and down her thighs.

Scorpius cleared his throat. Hermione felt Draco pause his rhythm, although the tip of his tongue flicked lazily over her clit.

“You really enjoy that?”

“Oh, yes!” Hermione replied without thinking.

Draco pinched her thigh. “Know-it-all! He’s talking to me.”

Hermione chuckled.

Draco pulled away from her. “It might be a bit of a chore at first, although her cunt’s so wet right now, she’s already delicious. The better I perform, the more delight she gives me.”

His words made Hermione’s skin tighten, most notably around her nipples. Scorpius leaned over her and pulled one into his mouth.

It was strictly against the rules. Scorpius wasn’t supposed to touch her until his father had finished. However, Hermione was surprised by him and couldn’t resist arching up into his mouth.

After a long moment, Draco’s tongue was back at her opening. Hermione’s head was spinning. Draco began fucking her with his tongue once Scorpius switched sides. Her climax came hard and fast, Draco being rewarded for playing nicely by a flood of her arousal. He lapped at her until she stilled, which Scorpius delayed by experimenting with her nipple in his mouth.

“I believe Mrs Weasley is more than ready for a shag.”

Over her, Scorpius froze. “There’s nothing more?”

“Just variations on a theme, Scorpius.” Draco was beginning to sound more than a little exasperated with his son.

“But you haven’t.” Scorpius cleared his throat.

“Your consideration is touching.” Draco’s exasperation lessened, but Hermione knew that he would be just as happy to bury his cock inside her.

Turning onto her side and then crawling toward Draco, Hermione reached out and unbuckled his belt. She unbuttoned his trousers and tugged at his pants. Meanwhile, she waved her arse in front of Scorpius, thighs spread in invitation. She cleared her throat and announced, “Nox!”

The room went dark. There was no moon to give light, but there was a fire in the sitting room, and once their eyes had adjusted, everyone was warmly lit.

By then, Scorpius had lowered his trousers, positioning himself behind Hermione. His hands smoothed over her arse, and he thrust into her as quickly as he could. It was hard and deep, and for the first time that night Hermione felt _full_.

She moaned, letting Scorpius make the first thrusts, letting him have his rhythm. She moaned, tossing her head a bit as he worked her body. Then, she looked up at Draco.

His hand was inside his pants, obviously stroking his cock. He was watching her, not for the first time, get fucked. The firelight caught the flint of his eyes. His face was a mask of pure possession.

Hermione wanted his cock in her mouth.

Scorpius’s hands were on her arse, holding his ‘half’ of her and pulling her into his cock again and again.

Hermione stretched toward Draco and licked her lips. He stepped closer, pulling his cock out, letting it rest heavily over his pants. Hermione reached out to grab it. She rubbed the tip around her lips a moment, and then she sucked the head into her mouth.

Both men groaned. Scorpius lengthened his stroke to accommodate Hermione’s desire to suck Draco’s cock. It was slow and deep. Draco gathered her hair up in his hands, twisting to watch his cock disappear again and again.

Eventually, the three stopped, Scorpius buried deep inside her while Draco fell from her lips. Hermione tried get it back, but Draco held her still with his grip on her hair.

“Grab Mrs Weasley’s breasts.”

Scorpius did.

“Now, holding just her nipples, squeeze them as though you’re juicing a Shrivelfig.”

It was a curious instruction, but it resulted in electric joy pulsing from her nipples to her cunt. Hermione bucked back, her arse hitting Scorpius’ hips.

“Alternate.”

He did. Hermione could feel, now, his thumb pressing against three fingertips. More urgently, though, she could feel her body forfeit control to Scorpius. All she could do was push her hips back, begging to be fucked.

Draco had done the same to her a few times. However, he did not have the stamina Scorpius did. The longer Scorpius did it, the harder Hermione thrust back.

“Stop. Stop touching her breasts.”

Hermione whined, nearly crying as the pleasure settled around her. Draco laughed. Scorpius’s breath was ragged on her back. It seemed he was not unaffected either.

Draco knelt and whispered into her ear. “The things I’m learning tonight, Granger. Do you want some more?”

Hermione turned her mouth to his. “Don’t tease.”

“Come on a date with me after the masq.”

“Now isn’t the time to- _Oh!_ ” Hermione lurched forward as Scorpius took a deep stroke away and into her core. He started up again, quickly taking up a good rhythm. Her tits began to swing, even slapping together after a short while.

Scorpius stopped, then. He pulled his cock nearly the whole way out, but left the tip in to tease her with. Hermione wriggled, trying to get more of his cock again. Scorpius spread her arse cheeks, squeezing them in his hands. “Say yes, Mrs Weasley.”

Hermione leaned forward, losing the delicious fullness of Scorpius’s cock but gaining her senses. “You two are bartering perfectly lovely shags for a meal in public.” She frowned at them, turning to kneel and curl up.

“Gryffindors always summarize the plot for you, I learned from James.” Scorpius sat back on his heels, hiding his cock beneath his still-buttoned shirt.

“I want to shag you on Tuesdays. I can’t do that if you insist on keeping your flat, on keeping this secret… If you insist on being the widow Weasley.”

Hermione gaped at Draco. “You’re not serious.”

“Granger, I’m standing here with the only two people in my life who matter, simultaneously more aroused and more jealous than I have ever been in my whole life, inclusive of watching _Ronald Bloody Weasley_ stumble into being Harry Potter’s best mate for no fucking reason but sitting in the right train car. I cannot tell you how infuriating it is to be jealous of that fucking ginger, especially posthumously.”

“Ronald Bilius Weasley.”

Draco smiled. “Infuriating.”

“Why are you so… congenial about this.”

“Slytherin reasons,” Draco said, his smile becoming less, but his glee shining in his eyes.

Hermione pointed at him. “We are discussing that at length when I am _not_ nude. Fine. I’ll go on a date with you, _if_ and I mean very seriously if, Draco, you can pick me out of the crowd next week.”

Scorpius took this opportunity to crawl forward, kicking his trousers off as he went.

Draco, however, buttoned his trousers. Hermione noticed and frowned.

“I’ll leave you two. Scorpius has to start dating, as well, after the masq.”

“Father!” Scorpius’s protest was vague.

“His mother insists that the masq is a perfect opportunity for Scorpius to start the search for a bride of his very own.” Draco turned to his son. “Have fun with Mrs Weasley. You won’t find her sort when your mother starts making arrangements.”

Hermione frowned even more, feeling her brows knit together. It seemed as if just moments ago she was enthralled in the most glorious sexual event of her life, and now her fantasy was drawing to a close.

Draco took a long look at Hermione before finally turning away and leaving the room. Hermione watched him go, even after the door clicked shut. He was acting so… curiously.

Scorpius, beside her on the bed, rolled to his back and groaned. “I don’t want to be set up by my mother. It’s going to be all her stuffy old friends’ daughters!”

Hermione turned to her side and propped her head up on her fist. “Who do you want, then?” She realised her mistake as soon as the words were out of her mouth.

Scorpius reached across his body, moving to face her. “You’ve never fucked me as hard as you did just now. I quite liked it.”

“I did, as well.”

He smiled, and then his face turned away from her. “I saw what you were also doing… with my father.”

Hermione hummed. “Shall I infer that you don’t approve?”

Scorpius turned back to her, surprise on his face. “Not at all. I mean, I am not here to approve or disapprove, am I? Just to watch and learn, Father said.”

Hermione’s eyebrows rose. “Ah, I see. Are you curious, then?” For the first time, perhaps ever, Scorpius looked at her with complete vulnerability. Hermione’s heart melted for him, and she smiled. “I always encourage curiosity, Scorpius.”

He exhaled. Scorpius touched Hermione, sliding his hand over her curves as she lay on her side. Then his hand dropped down, smoothing over her breast to her nipple. He rubbed it with the backs of his fingers, and then turned his hand to squeeze it as he had before.

Hermione arched into his hand, whimpering, her bottom lip trembling. Her leg wrapped around his hip.

“I think my father has shared his greatest secret, Mrs Weasley.”

She waved his words away. With renewed urgency, she pushed him to his back and straddled him. Hermione pulled his hands to her breasts. “Do it.”

Scorpius did, squeezing her nipples at once. It felt so good. Hermione reached between her thighs, positioned herself over Scorpius’s cock, and sank down on it.

The moaned together. Hermione rode him with urgency. She hadn’t wanted something so much in years. Scorpius’s cock felt divine inside of her, and the more he pinched her nipples like this, the more… orgasm she could feel swirling inside of her.

Even as she rode him, that thought seemed like nonsense. However, the misty, ephemeral feeling swirling around her quim was not at all nonsense. She chased after it, bouncing and moaning until her voice grew hoarse.

Certain she might be hyperventilating, Hermione reached for Scorpius’s hands to stop him. He wouldn’t let go at first, however. He pinched her very hard for a long moment before she got his hands away from her breasts. As if he were in an archer with a bow and arrow, releasing her breasts from his hold shot joy straight through her.

Hermione trembled as she came. Her body twitched, her torso shaking where she was speared on Scorpius. He came as well, unable to resist when her body milked his.

After so much stimulation, so many glorious peaks of ecstasy, Hermione’s quim had also drenched Scorpius in slightly sweet and musky juices that were mixing with his own. Her mind was delightfully empty and her body sang with all that had happened so far. Bracing herself with her hands on his chest, she pulled her hips away from his, and turned to roll away and onto her back.

The dim light in the room was gentle on her eyes, and she stared up at the ceiling and enjoyed the beautiful pressed tin tiles on the ceiling. She dozed for a minute before she felt Scorpius move beside her.

He disappeared for a moment and returned with his wand. Scorpius encouraged Hermione to turn and lay in the bed the correct way. He freshened and fluffed the bed clothes which became perfectly soft on her skin. He rang a little bell and a fresh water pitcher appeared on the nightstand. When he was finished, Scorpius climbed into bed with her.

She curled around him, a sheet between their bodies to keep them from sticking together. Hermione nestled under his arm and sighed. It soon became a yawn, and they both fell fast asleep.


	7. Chapter 7

_Friday  
31 October, 2025_

To avoid detection by entering as a ‘guest,’ Hermione had decided that she’d get ready for the Masquerade in her rooms at the cottage. She couldn’t believe that she’d started thinking of these as ‘hers.’ However, it seemed that whenever she needed something from her flat, it appeared in the suite.

She shook her head. Hermione found this to be quite suspicious. She didn’t have time to think it through, though. She had worked five twelve-hour days this week on a funding proposal, and now, it was time for Draco’s party.

Never one for the limelight, the after-war publicity circuit had been more than enough attention for the rest of her life, and the perpetual buzz of the papers and gossip magazines never seemed to let her rest. She hated these things, and she didn’t really have enough wherewithal to give any of it proper consideration.

Hermione had only just started putting pins in her hair when Scorpius knocked on the door to her suite. She was in her dressing gown when she opened the door for him, and didn't even wait for him to come through before returning to the dressing room.

Her dress robes were there, and her mask was in its box, and the party was starting shortly, and she’d only eaten half her dinner before she realised how late it had gotten. Never mind that Hermione was really starting to feel Draco’s intensity about the two of them becoming an item.

She thought that he couldn’t really be serious, except that he seemed completely set on this. He’d already bartered for a proper date in public with her. Perhaps she’d drag him to dinner at Harry’s. Hermione stabbed another pin into her curls, working to make them twist and turn away from her face, as though they were the tendrils of a new tree. She couldn’t even begin to imagine.

“Where are your robes, Mrs Weasley?” Scorpius asked.

Remembering him, Hermione paused with her hands in her hair. She let the few pins she was holding fall from her lips and met his eye in the mirror.

He was long, lean, cropped, and coiffed. He looked a bit camp, in fact, with his arms folded in a sulk and his hips pressed forward.

“You must have your eyes checked, Scorpius, because my robes are quite plainly hung over there,” she said, pointing. 

“Quite plainly, indeed.” Scorpius bent to lift the skirt of her robes, trying to touch them as little as possible. “Does my father know you are wearing… _this?_ ”

Hermione turned a bit to face him. “Your father does not tell me to do much of anything, as you well know. They are perfectly good robes.”

Scorpius pursed his lips. “Sit still for a moment.” He brought the garment up to her, holding it near her eyes. He looked between her and the garment for a moment, muttered a spell, and turned to shake the robes out.

Watching as the robes went from a very dark forest green to a more blue, tropical shade, Hermione frowned. She didn’t care for silly fashion spells, but she hated not knowing something someone half her age knew.

He brought the garment back and shook his head. Scorpius repeated it all, this time turning the robes a frostier evergreen shade.

It was lovely.

He returned the robes to the bed. Then, Scorpius moved to kiss Hermione’s neck, persisting until she craned her neck and gave a small hum. “Where are your cosmetics?” he asked, noticing the scant basics on the vanity table.

“I’ve a beautiful mask to wear tonight. I wasn’t planning much else.”

“Nonsense. Stand up,” he said. “I’ll do your make-up, if you like.”

“Scorpius Malfoy, you do not know how to do make-up.”

“My mother spends hours in her dressing room, Hermione. She gave me plenty of attention, but it was never enough for me, so I would follow her in there, especially on school holidays.”

He said it with such stern nonchalance that Hermione was a bit taken aback. She could not imagine James or Al following Ginny around as she got ready, not that Ginny wasted much time before a mirror.

Scorpius cleared his throat. “Besides, I’ve been thinking about having you in my lap all day, and this will be quite productive in both regards.”

Refusing to smile at his cheekiness, Hermione stood to let him take her place. He settled quickly, and his hands moved to her hips. He stroked her there for a moment before untying the belt of her dressing gown.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting us ready.” Scorpius kissed her navel and reached up to pull her knickers down.

“There isn’t ti-ime! Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy!” Hermione scolded. She was sure she didn’t sound very authoritative, what with his fingers pushing in and out of her, making her breathless.

“If I remember correctly…” he began, and pushed two fingers into her. His other hand came up to hold her breast over her bra. Scorpius’s face was pure concentration. His thumb moved to her clitoris, and he tried to stroke his fingers and swipe his thumb.

He frowned when this proved to be more challenging than he had expected. Giving it up, he lifted his hand and opened Hermione’s bra at the front clasp.

Her tits dropped out, and Scorpius moved his mouth to tease the right side. His tongue flicked at her nipple, and he blew cold air across it. When it was standing straight up, he took it into his mouth, and began again with his other hand at her core.

Hermione began to rut against his fingers, bracing herself on the vanity table. Young men were certainly reliable for something after all.

He switched from her right side to her left, aggressively suckling her breast. His eyes opened and met hers. “Say it again?” he whispered.

It was so vulnerable, so bizarrely erotic. Hermione stroked his hair back from his forehead. “Scorpius. Hyperion. Malfoy.”

He smiled, but stopped everything he was doing. “You’re such a dish, Mrs Weasley.” Scorpius righted her knickers and pulled her into his lap. “Now, where are your supplies? You look incredible right now, I want to capture it.”

Hermione let him settle her, and then, he reached to the side to open a drawer in her dressing table. Scorpius pulled her body close to his, so he could investigate, pulling out what he liked. Then he got to work.

“I haven’t got much, really.”

“You’re so opposite of my mother, Mrs Weasley. Her best cosmetics are impossible to find amidst everything else.”

“I haven’t any need for more than I have, or any time to waste on it – or galleons, either,” Hermione replied, letting him touch her face with his fingers, a sponge, and then, a brush.

“You needn’t use your own galleons. My father would be more than happy to accommodate you.”

She opened one eye and squinted with the other. “I’m not dignifying that.” This, along with her other suspicions, had to be properly considered.

Scorpius set aside what he was doing for a quick feel up her chest. “You should let him spoil you, Mrs Weasley. I assure you, it’s no hardship.”

“Says the young man who is taking every liberty with his father’s lover.”

“Not _every_ liberty.” Scorpius began working on her eyes, shadowing them and lining them with a dark green kohl. “He does care for you, more intensely than he lets on.”

Hermione reached up to adjust a painful hairpin. “I know, Scorpius. I’m not ignorant in the ways of your father. We’ve been at it for some time now.”

“I should hope you’ll be with us indefinitely.” He smoothed his thumbs over her cheekbones.

“I know quite well that Malfoys are quite definite when they say indefinitely. Not everything works out well, Scorpius.” Hermione kept her eyes shut, but softened her tone. She didn’t like talking about ending all of this, but she wanted him to be reasonable.

He didn’t acknowledge her. Instead, he reached for a hand mirror. Scorpius lifted it, to show her his work.

“Oh my god. How did you–? That was impossibly quick!” Hermione stood and turned around to look in the full mirror. Ignoring her breasts hanging out from her still-open bra, Hermione pushed her face closer to the looking glass.

Her eyes looked impossibly large. His method had used the arch of her cheekbones to emphasise her brows and the profile of her nose. “You should do this for a living,” Hermione declared.

Scorpius shrugged. Brushing her dressing gown over to one side, his lips fell onto her backside where she was bent over the dressing table. He kissed the back of her knickers, squeezing her arse. “You’ve spoiled me, Mrs Weasley. I’m going to have to dance with so many witches tonight. None will be as luscious as you.”

His hands slid down to the fronts of her thighs. He massaged her legs, kissing down to the bottom of her arse. Scorpius scraped his teeth gently over her rump up to her knickers, which he pulled at with his teeth.

Hermione smiled, wriggling her arse. “You’ll have your pick of perfectly lovely girls.”

“Perfectly boring, you mean.” Scorpius’s hands found her breasts, and he teased her nipples as he nipped at her backside.

Hermione’s hands went over his, and he stopped to look at her in the mirror. She stepped back, taking a seat in his lap again. She leaned back on his chest and rested her head carefully on his shoulder. “You’ll find someone, Scorpius.”

They sat in silence for a minute as Scorpius touched her all over. Hermione relaxed into his attentions and felt beautiful, as though she really _was_ a tree nymph, hoping only to be pleased by a lost boy.

Then, Scorpius kissed her neck and whispered in her ear. He could be so timid at times, it always astonished her.

However, Hermione did not hesitate to put her fingers to her core with her legs spread wide outside of his. She began to stroke her labia, making sure he was watching in the mirror. Once she was good and wet, Hermione pushed her middle finger into her pussy. “Do you like watching me, Mr Malfoy?”

He licked his lips and kissed her ear. Hermione raised her finger out of her quim and put it in her mouth. Against her arse, Scorpius’s cock was now a hard rod, and his eyes were trained on everything her mouth was doing.

Hermione pulled her finger from her lips so slowly Scorpius groaned. “Do you want to fuck me?”

“Always.” Scorpius took a breast in each and squeezed, massaging them with no skill.

It still made her so wet. Hermione flicked her wet finger across her clit, holding his gaze in the mirror. “Do you want to watch me orgasm, Scorpius?”

He pinched her nipples as he had done last week. Hermione’s back arched, and her arse ground against his cock. She moaned, moving her hands over his.

Scorpius’s mouth was in her ear. “You’re so sexy, Hermione. I want to fuck you. I want to fuck you in front of everyone. My father. James. Everyone. I want you to beg me to fuck you more. Harder. All night. Do you understand?”

“Fuck me, Scorpius,” Hermione echoed. She moved her hands back to her pussy, but Scorpius stopped her.

“You’re such a bloody tease, and I love it, but we don’t have time to dally much longer.”

It was Hermione’s turn to groan. She was enjoying herself for the first time all week, and she really did want him to fuck her.

Still, he was right. Hopefully the sooner the masquerade started, the sooner she could be done with it. She slid off his lap reached for a tissue. She used it to wipe the wetness from her core and tossed it in the bin.

Righting her underclothes, Hermione put on her robes. The colour was much better once she was wearing it, and she stood next to Scorpius as she did up the buttons.

“Are those new?” he asked.

“Of course. I don’t really have much need for formal robes these days, and I certainly can’t wear what I could fifteen or twenty years ago.”

“Why are they so… loose?”

Hermione stood and looked at the robes. “What do you mean? This is how my robes always fit.”

"This isn't a budget meeting, Mrs Weasley," Scorpius muttered as he cinched the waist of her robes, revealing a much more waspish figure than Hermione ever showed. He stood and started stroking his hands over her body, muttering a spell as he did.

“What are you casting? Why can’t I hear it?”

“Family secret.”

“You’ve got to be joking.”

Scorpius stopped with his hands on her shoulders. “Marry my father and find out.”

“Now you _are_ joking! I’m not interested in having my tits all over the gossip pages after the party. Change them back.”

“Your tits? Absolutely not.”

“My robes, Scorpius!” Hermione pulled away from him. She pinched the cloth of her robes, trying to pull it away from her figure. They stretched, but when she let go, they returned to a snug, soft fit.

“Your neckline is not a centimetre lower than when I started. Let me finish and then have a look.”

Hermione huffed. She could not believe that Scorpius Malfoy had a bloody tailoring spell, and that he wouldn’t tell her what it was, and that he’d bothered to suggest marriage as the key to all knowledge. She could not believe that she was about to go to a bloody singles mixer in robes fit for someone half her age.

She could not believe that she was here at all.

Hermione threw her hands in the air. “Fine.”

Scorpius stepped forward and snogged Hermione quite aggressively for a long moment. “You’re a proper harridan when you don’t get your way.”

Curling her lip, Hermione replied, “You’re the one who was in too much of a hurry to shag, Mr Malfoy.”

He stared at her and shook his head a bit. Scorpius reached beneath his robes, made a display of adjusting his erection, and put his hands back on Hermione’s shoulders. He began working her robes again, snugging up over her bosom, waist, and rear. He pinched sections to add a bit of flounce to her skirt. Finally, he adjusted the sleeves so they belled dramatically over her hands.

Hermione turned to look in the mirror, but Scorpius stopped her. He handed her the box with her mask inside. She rolled her eyes at the fuss. Only when her mask was situated, the long branch-like tendrils fit into her curls, and the spell cast to keep it in place, Scorpius allowed her to look.

She gasped when she saw herself in the mirror. Hermione did not recognise her reflection one bit.

The cosmetics under her mask made her look as though she really might be a wood fairy. Her neck looked long and elegant. Her robes were not too revealing, but rather suggestive. She might have been twenty years old for all her figure gave away. Well, her tits were better now than they were then. She could see that, at least.

Hermione thought it must be the tailoring. “Your father will never recognise me.”

“Won’t matter. You’ll be the sultriest witch in the room. Speaking of which, the hour…” said Scorpius. He let his voice quiet and pointed at nothing as the chimes began to sound.

The party was starting.

Scorpius turned his wand a bit, and a beautiful owl mask appeared in his hand. The feathering was subdued, playing on his skin tone, the colour of his silver-blond hair, and his grey eyes.

When it was situated, Scorpius presented himself to Hermione, giving a slow turn to show off his full ensemble.

“Quite handsome.”

Below his mask, Scorpius’s mouth turned to a frown. “Try again, Mrs Weasley, and try not to sound like my old aunty. I have to go and capture hearts, you’ll recall.”

Hermione gave a dramatic eye roll and stuck her tongue out at the little prat. Then she stilled, looking him over quite obviously. Hermione stepped forward, needlessly adjusting the front closure of his robes. She licked her lips and pressed her chest against his.

Scorpius swallowed loudly. His breath caught for a moment.

“Be careful with those young witches, Mr Malfoy,” Hermione whispered into his ear. Then she dragged her teeth down his ear lobe and stepped away from him.

Scorpius was short of breath when their eyes met. He opened his mouth, but his voice cracked. Heat rose in his cheeks and coloured his neck. He cleared his throat and, with perfect Malfoy detachment, “Gryffindor.”

Hermione smiled and called for Mipsy to take her to the receiving room. When she and the elf landed on the marble floor, Mipsy popped out before she could take a breath to thank her. An unfamiliar young man ushered Hermione into the ballroom, and Hermione realised she was on her own.

Draco, in fine but plain robes and a simple grey mask stood at the far end of the ballroom. He watched guests as they began to fill the hall, mingling, dancing a bit, and appraised each one. Since the guest list had been provided by the match-maker, everyone here would be looking to find a possible companion tonight. Draco would be a quite desirable catch, but as the host he also needed to stand out in a way.

Directing herself toward a house elf carrying a tray of nibbles, Hermione was intercepted before she got to her target. Hermione remembered why she had purchased the plain, slightly too loose robes. Someone – not Draco – was asking her to dance. She smiled, internally cringing. It would be terribly rude to decline so early in the evening.

As she let the wizard escort her to the dance floor, eyes fell upon her and did not slip away. She _hated_ this. Hermione wished that Harry and Ron were here. She slowed her breathing, not wanting to panic, and not wanting to think of what might have been.

She looked up at her dance partner and met his eyes. They were nice. Bright blue. Laugh lines. He was prattling. She hadn’t heard a word. He had just said, “Don’t you think.” Was it a question?

“You must forgive me, my mind – I was trying to make sure I didn’t step on your foot.”

Her partner smiled, and his hand slid up her waist enough that his thumb was next to her breast. “I was saying I hadn’t seen a ball this lavish since my first Hogwarts ball when they rebuilt the castle. It’s lovely now, don’t you think?”

Hermione frowned. “I left Hogwarts before the war.”

Now, it was his turn to lose a step. “You’re joking. You’re too fit to be that old.”

Just as she was about to lose her temper, her hand already moving to remove his from her person, another wizard cut in. He was either brave or stupid, but Hermione took the opportunity to ditch the first for the second.

She was luckier this time. She had spent enough time with Terry Boot to know his eyes anywhere. “Oh, thank God.”

He smiled. “Hermione? Is that you? Really?”

She shushed him, almost conspicuously loudly. “I’m not here; you don’t know me. I’m at my flat, thinking think about what prats Harry and Ginny are.”

Terry pulled her closer, relaxing as he danced with his old school mate. “Why are they prats this time?”

“They think I should go to Draco bloody Malfoy’s stupid Halloween Masquerade.”

“I can see why you wouldn’t want to be anywhere near there.”

They smiled.

“Suffice it to say, Terry, that Draco Malfoy, for whatever reason, lets me have access to his library, and somehow got me to come to this thing against my… better judgement.”

Terry gave a slow nod, pulling her closer still. “I never would have guessed it was you. Can’t say as I mind, though. Would you like to ditch and hide out at mine for the night?”

“Terry, what’s gotten into you? You didn’t drink before you came, did you?”

He cleared his throat. “You know, Hermione, I had a bit of a thing for you when we were at school. But there was Ron, and that Viktor, and you were in Gryffindor and I was in Ravenclaw…”

“That was… about a million years ago.”

“Same Hermione. You have no idea how fetching you look, do you?”

She had some idea. Hermione could not believe she let Scorpius arrange her like this. “Terry. That’s lovely. I really appreciate it. Really. But, we’d never do.”

He did not seem swayed. The song was drawing to a close, but he leaned over her. “I’m glad Malfoy got you out here tonight. You look… impeccable. When you’re ready to go, my offer stands.”

The song came to a close, and Terry lifted her knuckles to his lips for a moment. He took a long look at her and then turned away, seizing a witch who had just come free of her own dance partner.

Hermione stood on the dance floor for a moment before making dash for the wall. She carefully navigated to a dark corner, unwilling to give consideration to how her behaviour was setting her apart.

This became the pattern for the night.

She would sneak out of her hiding places for a refreshment, get scooped up into a dance or two or ten, and then flee for the drapes. She was popular, but too much so, and she felt out of her element.

The only amusement of the night was Scorpius. She watched him navigate the room as if he’d been doing so his whole life. Hermione figured, after a moment, he probably had. Often, their eyes would meet, and he’d give her a confused look. Hermione would point out a witch with whom he hadn’t danced yet, and he’d follow her direction.

As the night wore on, individuals became pairs and pairs seemed to wander away. Hermione’s dance card, of course, was full, much to her dismay. She did not want to be on the floor for the final dance.

She had watched Draco dance with each of the witches, playing the perfect host. But they had an agreement, and she didn’t want to be found out. She knew that if he had her at the close, she would be hard pressed to talk reason into him.

Which is how Hermione Granger, Vanquisher of Voldemort, Helper of Harry Potter, Saviour of House Elves, found herself in a niche behind the stairs where they met from a landing and turned into a promenade of sorts. She was hiding; something she couldn’t believe but absolutely forgave herself for.

Midnight had struck, and pairing dust had fallen to make sure everyone had a partner for the last dance. Draco had vanished as he, of course, would need a proper disguise and his partner.

Hermione pressed herself into the hard stone of the under-stairs. She tried to be as quiet as a mouse and listened to the musicians as they made a final tuning of their instruments. They were bloody well taking their time with it, of course.

At last, they struck the first notes of last waltz. Hermione heaved a sigh of relief, closed her eyes and dared lean forward from her spot. She froze when a shadow blocked what little light found its way under the stairs.

A man stepped under the stairs as well, although he did not duck his head to fit where Hermione was standing. He was… perfect.

Hermione swallowed.

His shoulders were broad. His hips narrowed beneath his tailored robes. His pale, pointy chin jutted from beneath his mask. The mask itself, she wasn’t sure if he was an archer or a woodsman, but it shone in even the dim light.

“I’ve danced with every witch in attendance, save one.”

Hermione pressed herself back. In her chest, her heart pounded. “Terry recognised me. Terry Boot. We’ll be found out.”

Around them, the waltz swirled. Draco’s hands came apart as if to say, ‘who cares?’ He stood, raised one finger to beckon her to him.

In her body, Hermione’s blood swirled. She felt dizzy, and more than a little turned on. It seemed Draco knew this.

“We can dance or we can make chase, Nymph.”

That caught Hermione’s attention. She could definitely stand to expend some energy.

Draco smirked. “You want a chase.”

Hermione nodded, as if they were deciding on a plan.

“That is your choice. That is what _you_ want?”

She nodded again, more vigorously.

“There is a servant’s door five paces to the right along this wall. I will give you _one_ measure of music.”

Hermione tiptoed forward. Part of her mind found it suspicious that he was complying, but it was certainly not the part of her that was ready to _RUN!_ She left her party shoes under the stairs, making a break for it. Just after her eyes adjusted from the dim light to the bright party, she dashed through. Hermione was through the door and around a twist she thought would take her to her suites.

As she made the turn, an arrow whizzed past her, landing in the plaster wall with a shower of sparkling dust. Draco was the archer to her nymph, the hunter to her fairy. As she ran, she tried to think of every story she’d read about this.

Behind her, she heard the next shot fire from a tiny cross bow, if she had to guess. The archer would have spied the fairy and fallen ‘in love’ with her. He wanted to take her from the forest and keep her for himself.

If she could make it home in time, he would be trapped in her land and not the other way around.

Hermione ducked, sliding in her skirts to the wall that would take her to the next hall that would lead back to her suites or to the main Floo for the cottage. The arrow stuck in the wall again, about where her back might have been. Sweeping her hand through the dust, she broke out at full run again.

Racing, she sniffed her hand. It smelled of cocoa and polished wood and that papery smell she loved in a library. The shimmer could have been anything, from aphrodisiac powder they’d tried before to real gold, knowing Malfoy.

At the end of the final hall, she had to choose between her rooms or her flat. After the night she was having, she wanted her own bed. Hermione raced to the Floo.

As she was reaching up for the Floo powder, one of Draco’s arrows landed in her shoulder. The pouch broke and the arrow fell to the ground. Her robes were covered in gold, the scrumptious powder, and Hermione breathed in a thick cloud of… lust.

She managed to Floo home, but Draco was at her back. He caught her in his arms as he came through the Floo.

Hermione felt loose, languid, and totally aroused. Her shoulder smarted a bit from where she had taken the hit, but she felt _alive_. It seemed she missed those adrenaline filled days of her youth.

In her landing Draco was pulling her body next to his. “Dammit, Hermione, why must you be so contrary?”

Hermione wrapped her hands around his shoulders and smiled up at him. “Dammit, Draco, why must you be plotting something?”

Draco bent his mouth to her ear. “I have treats for you at home. Prezzies.”

Turning her chin to meet his, Hermione kissed him. She didn’t devour him, but drew him out as she knew he liked after these many months of practice. As he yielded, Hermione pulled up her robes and wrapped one leg over his hip. “Make me come.”

Draco spun quickly, nearly picking her up as he pushed her into the wall by the fire place. He held her thigh up with one hand and used his other to finger her. She was already wet and ready, having been denied by Scorpius earlier. Their eyes met, and Draco stared down at her with a blank face, impatient for her to come.

His eyes behind his mask held hers, and Hermione licked her lips as her body responded to him. Soon, her back was arching against the wall, her head pushing against the plaster as she shouted to the ceiling. Draco kissed her as her ecstasy peaked, and long after until they both pulled away, breathless.

Hermione swallowed, panting, and smiled. “This is my home, Malfoy.”

He shook his head, his lip curled in a bit of a snarl. He lowered her leg and cupped her chin. They snogged for a long time. Draco pulled away first, leading her to her bedroom. He had Hermione sit on the bed while he stood before her.

“You look perfect.”

Hermione shrugged. “Scorpius did it. My robes were different. I didn’t want all that attention.”

“I couldn’t keep my eyes off you all night. Even though you didn’t wear the mask I sent, I was captivated by you. Everyone was.”

She looked up at him, drinking in the masculine look of his costume, even the miniature crossbow strapped to his wrist, folded away though it was.

“Now you have me, what will you do?”

“Have I? Are you bedding me tonight as someone I _have_?” Draco stepped forward. He looked over her with a hungry gaze.

“You’re so serious, Draco.”

“Perfectly serious. Say yes, or I won’t come to bed.”

Hermione smiled and lay back on the bed. For the first time since the party had begun, she felt in her element. Draco loved to watch her as she enjoyed her body. Hermione smoothed her hands over her robes, over her body, while Draco watched.

They kept their masks on, and it added a bit of mystery to the moments as they unfolded.

“Say yes, or I won’t lick that dust from your neck.” Draco turned and shut the door, turning the lamps up until the room was bright.

“We haven’t shagged all week, Draco. Come help me out of these robes.” Hermione was smoothing her hands over the velvet and wriggling to centre herself on the bed.

Draco grabbed her foot, pulling her back and stepping up to the side of the bed.

“I don’t need you out of these robes to penetrate you. But you have to say ‘yes’.”

Hermione blinked. Something about that word… _penetrate_. So seductive. It was thrilling. It seemed simple enough. She hesitated.

“Nymph.” He pressed his thumb into the sole of her foot, massaging as he had countless times before. “I’m starting to think you don’t want me here.”

Hooking her foot behind his thigh, Hermione said, “I very much want you here.”

“Say it.”

Hermione closed her eyes and fixed the pronouns in his request. “I am bedding you tonight as someone you have.” As her teeth pressed over her lower lip, Draco’s fingers clamped once more around her ankle. Surprised, her eyes popped open.

Draco pulled out his wand and pointed it at the middle of the room. Within moments, a full tree had sprouted and filled in. It grew, creaking like an old tree in the wind. When it was finished, Hermione noticed it greatly resembled her mask.

“Draco. My flat,” Hermione boggled, as she stared at the tree in her bedroom.

“I had a perfectly good tree waiting at home, but you took the Floo.” Draco bent over her, wrapping his arms around her to lift her up. He carried her so that she was between him and the tree. Then he knelt before her, pulling apart her robes until her pussy was in the open. 

He licked her, first with the flat of his tongue over her slit, and then making a second pass to spread her labia with just the tip of his tongue.

“I did,” Hermione agreed, still befuddled by what was happening, but desperate for more of his tongue on her. She shrugged and wriggled until her robes were a puddle of cloth on the floor.

“And you made chase when a simple dance was your option.” Draco smoothed one hand flat on her belly, pressing her into the tree trunk.

Hermione hooked her leg over his shoulder, and the conversation stopped. She rolled her hips against his mouth, and he licked and sucked at her. His fingers came to spread her labia, and Hermione pushed her hands into his hair, holding him there as he ate her pussy.

“Draco-o!” Hermione whined, feeling so close to orgasm but it wasn’t enough.

Flicking his tongue over her clit, Draco pushed a long finger into her pussy.

It was still not enough, and Hermione opened her mouth to tell him so. His finger, wet from her core, was now pushing inside of her from the other side. It was slow, and her thighs trembled as he pulled out a bit before pushing in again and again. He kept at it until his finger was completely in her arse.

Draco licked her clit, again, and pulled it between his lips. He began to hum. It was quiet, but he was fingering her arse now, holding her against the tree.

Hermione felt drunk, and this orgasm hit her like a wave. On his shoulder, her leg tightened, pulling him close. Her hands rushed away from his hair, bracing herself as her fingers clutched at the tree bark. His finger in her subsided, pulling away as the pulsing in her cunt subsided.

She looked down at him, her breath rasping in her throat. All Hermione could see was his silver-white hair and his shining mask.

Draco stood and pressed their bodies together. He lapped at the gold dust on her neck.

Hermione quite liked the feel of that, and her neck turned so he could get at her as much as he liked. She also set about opening his robes, exposing his cock, which she wanted quite urgently, as empty as she had been all night.

“And I have you tonight? You’re mine?” Draco reached down to wrap his arms under her legs. He lifted her and positioned his hips.

Hermione nodded when she felt him at her opening.

“Say it. Say it again, Hermione. I need to hear it.”

“Yes, Draco. Yes, please. Do it.”

“Perfect,” he said as he thrust deep into her. Draco moved her legs so that they were around his hips, hooking her feet together. Then he raised his hands to hers, intertwining their fingers, and raising them above her head.

Around them, a breeze developed in the tree.

Hermione, her face masked as though she too were part of the tree, let Draco slide in and out of her, swirling his hips when he could and making her moan. Draco held her in this old Goddess pose, thrusting into her as deeply and thoroughly as he could, time and again, as her ecstasy built.

She could smell something happening. The musky scent of their bodies was mixed with the flowers blooming on the tree.

Leaning forward, Draco posed his mouth near Hermione’s ear. “Keep your arms up, I want your breasts.”

She nodded, thrusting her hips down onto his cock, pulling him with her legs.

His hands found her breasts, lifted them, and held her nipples at the base of his thumbs. “Is that good?”

“So good.”

“You have no idea what you do to me, Hermione.” His words made her open her eyes.

“I want you to come.”

“Already?”

“I want to kiss you when you do.”

Hermione’s heart stuttered. “Don’t stop.”

“Of course.” Draco pinched and pulled her nipples a bit, and Hermione arched into his hold. He increased his pace, fucking her into the tree.

Hermione looked at her big soft bed, dazed, trying to let her body have his pleasure again. His cock felt so good inside of her, stretching her, sliding in and out. The rough bark at her back confused her senses. Draco squeezed her nipples, almost milking her tits in a way.

Then, something opened inside of her. All of the sensations Draco had been orchestrating ripped through Hermione’s body one last, triumphant time. Her lips began to tremble and a loud low moan opened her mouth.

Draco covered her mouth with his. He kissed her, driving into her at a frantic pace. His hands came back to cover hers, their fingers intertwining. He buried himself inside of her as he came at last.

His mouth was by her ear. Breathless, broken declarations of love fell from his lips. Hermione could not form a single thought. Draco’s body pinned her in place, and she could only cling to him as reality came back into focus.

Whatever magic that had been in the dust pouches was finished. Hermione stroked Draco’s hair, and he pulled away from her a bit. However, his arms came around her, and he managed to lift and carry her the few steps between them and the bed.

He found his wand and darkened the room. Wrapping them in blankets, Draco pulled off their masks. When they were both settled, he kissed her face again and again.

“What was all that?” Hermione asked, even as sleep took over. She was absolutely exhausted, and absolutely well shagged.

Draco only shushed her, holding her tightly in his arms. Before she could think, Hermione was asleep.

* * *

_Saturday_

Hermione woke with a start the next morning. Or rather afternoon. She sat up out of a dead sleep. Looking around her bedroom, she could not believe her eyes.

Beside her in the bed, Draco _bloody_ Malfoy slept like a prince. She jabbed the bastard in the ribs with two fingers and only barely managed not to shout when she asked, “Why is there a fucking tree in my bedroom?”

Draco’s body twitched, and he seized the covers around him, lurching away to the other side of the bed, from which he promptly fell. A few swears fell from his lips followed by a long groan.

“Do not give me any shite, Draco. Why did you grow a fucking tree in my bedroom?” Hermione crawled over to where he had fallen.

He moved to sit on the floor with his forearms on his knees. Draco blinked himself awake and stared at his feet. “Merlin, Granger. It was Samhain, Hallow’s Eve. I fucking love you, you harpy.”

“Don’t give me that bollocks.” Hermione rolled her eyes to the ceiling and, then, rolled back on the bed.

“You’re a witch. You can manage it.” Draco stood and made his way to the loo.

Hermione had not ‘managed it’ by the time he got back. She just stared at the ceiling and tried to keep a thousand thoughts at bay.

“Let’s go back to mine and talk about this.”

Hermione was quiet for a long while, and Draco gathered his things, pulling on his slacks and shirt sleeves when he found them. When he came back, Hermione turned to him and said, “No.”

Draco pause. “What? What are you on about?”

“I’m staying here, Draco. And, please, have Mipsy bring my things back.”

“I will not.”

“Yes, you will.”

“I will not!”

Hermione sat up, again sitting straight with a flash. “You’ve been sneaking about for weeks now, Draco. Just because I haven’t said doesn’t mean I haven’t noticed. I can’t say what you’re up to right now, but I’m not a fucking poppet for you to play with.”

Draco dragged a hand through his hair. “You can’t be serious.”

She didn’t reply. Instead, Hermione looked at the tree. She tried to put the pieces together, but she wasn’t even sure what the pieces were, yet.

“You’ve lost your marbles, Granger.”

“It’s ‘Weasley’, _Malfoy_.” Hermione turned to look at him, but she didn’t meet his eye.

Draco climbed on the bed, crawling toward her. “It’s bloody Hermione Granger, you shrew!” He advanced on her, and she leaned away from him. He did not stop until he was on his hands and knees and she was flat on her back. “And you mark my words: I’ll have a rock like you can’t even imagine on your hand by the end of the year.”

Colour had risen in his neck, and hot, heavy breaths puffed over her face. Draco’s face lowered over hers, ever closer, and he said, “My home is your home. Those rooms are as much yours as this flat. Your things are quite where they belong.” Finally, he pushed away from her and strode from the room.

Or so she assumed. Hermione could manage only to stare at the ceiling, not looking after him at all.

* * *

_Sunday_

Hermione stood at her Floo, bracing herself to go and get her things from Malfoy’s house. She had yet to spell away the tree from her room, but she really did want her things back, and she wanted to return some of his books, as well. She didn’t need them for work anymore, and Hermione didn’t want him to have an excuse to come calling.

She wiped her hands on her denims and called out the address. Then she was through, less than thirty-six hours since she had last been there.

Apart from having been tidied, the only noticeable difference in anything was that Scorpius sat in a tall chair so close to the fireplace that she nearly tripped and fell into his lap.

He looked cold and closed, like his father in their fifth year. Hermione’s heart stuttered. They stared at each other, mutually shocked.

She cleared her throat and said, “I’m sorry to bother. I’ve just come to return… these things. And to gather my own.”

Scorpius said nothing, but his eyebrows turned up so that he looked perfectly wounded.

Turning away, Hermione swallowed and began to walk around his chair. He was up and after her, as close as her shadow. Scorpius didn’t speak, and Hermione tried to pretend that he wasn’t there at all. This was quite a challenge, considering how accustomed to him she had become.

In the hallway, Hermione paused. This would take too long if she put the books away herself, and Mipsy would know exactly where her things would be. She called the elf.

Mipsy appeared in the blink of an eye and looked up at Hermione with hope, as though she was expecting a great task. “Mipsy is ready, Mistress.”

Confused, Hermione’s mouth turned down. “What do you mean, ‘Mistress’?”

“Master Draco says you is the Mistress now. You has been, but he wouldn’t let Mipsy call the Mistress ‘Mistress’. He says Mipsy can be elf of Scorpius and Master Draco and Mistress now.”

Hermione folded her arms. “How long have I been the Mistress, Mipsy?”

Mipsy smiled. “Since you sleeps in the Mistress’s room, Mistress. Only the Mistress can sleep in the Mistress’s room.”

“Why is it her room?”

Pulling her ears, Mipsy frowned. “Mipsy explained wrong. Rooms was always for the Mistress. Mistress Astoria and Mistress Narcissa and all the Mistresses.”

“You’re being very helpful, Mipsy. Tell me more, please.” Hermione knelt down and let her knapsack fall to the floor with a clunk.

That brought back Mipsy’s smile, and she said, “As long as Masters is having this cottage, Mistress’s rooms is for the Mistress. The Mistress gets the rooms when she sleeps there and brings her things and…” Mipsy looked at Scorpius and knelt conspiratorially toward Hermione. She whispered, “And spills her blood, Mistress.”

Hermione tried to keep her face neutral in front of the elf. “And the Master washes her, and they do magic, is that right?”

Mipsy smiled, and her eyes seemed to light up as she nodded excitedly.

Slowly, carefully, Hermione stood. Her temper, however, rose much faster than she did. When she was standing, Hermione carefully asked Mipsy to take the books to the library and to move what possessions Hermione had in the cottage back to her flat. The elf agreed, although she was obviously confused.

Finally, Hermione turned to Scorpius. Her lip curled in rage, but she couldn’t help but smile at him. “You’ve been a perfect dear, Darling, but I can’t imagine you were ignorant of your father’s designs.”

Scorpius, sensing his imminent demise, began to back away from Hermione. He pulled out his wand, realising that she was now gripping hers again and again.

“I love my husband. I love Ronald. I don’t know what I was thinking of all those months ago.” Hermione followed him, prowling after him. His retreat was met with every move, and Hermione backed him against the wall next to the door to the receiving room. “Scorpius, I will miss you. You’re splendid. However, do not follow me. Do not contact me. Do not.”

Hermione popped up on her toes and kissed him, chastely, at the corner of his mouth. He quivered before her, eyes shutting in fear and perhaps hurt, but she pulled away. She strode back into the receiving room and through the Floo. Then, Hermione Granger-Weasley- _Malfoy?_ sank into the first chair she could find and laughed until she cried.


	8. Chapter 8

_Saturday  
8 November, 2025_

Hermione sat in a secluded corner of the newest, hottest, poshest restaurant in Diagon Alley. She had come in through a private entrance which only a few people even knew about, and the foggy night had helped her shield her identity, as well as the over-sized hood of her cloak.

She had arrived fifteen minutes early to this _‘date’_. She couldn’t believe she was in this mess. She couldn’t believe that she’d agreed to sleep with Draco, and then his son, and then go to their little party. However, she could absolutely believe that Draco Malfoy would blackmail her into doing what he wanted her to do. How that had become going out to dinner on a Saturday night, she never would have guessed.

Somewhere nearby, a clock chimed seven, and Hermione peered over her menu as Draco leaned over the back of the vacant chair.

“Good evening, Granger.”

“It’s _‘Weasley’, Malfoy._ ”

They were perfectly alone, and Draco was smiling. He looked… giddy. Or, perhaps, completely mad.

“Still angry, then. You should know, Hermione, that I’ve had a bezoar just now. Any attempts to poison me will come to nothing. Hopefully you haven’t been practicing any jinxes.” Draco sat, plucking Hermione’s menu from her fingers.

He stacked it on top of another, and then tapped them with his wand. They vanished, and a starter appeared. “I’ve already arranged our meal. You won’t be inviting the waiter over to spoil all the good chatting we’ll be doing. Wine?”

Across the table, Hermione curled her lip and crossed her arms over her chest.

Draco poured wine into both glasses, and then returned the bottle to the table. He lifted his glass, and Hermione, with great delay and reluctance, lifted hers as well.

The two glasses came together with a soft clink, and Draco relaxed into his evening. They began to eat, Hermione with a quiet efficiency.

“Scorpius sends his regards, of course. I haven’t seen him much; he’s been at his mother’s. She’s quite pleased with his reports from the masq and has already arranged his schedule to keep him perfectly unavailable.”

“I’m sure he’ll find someone quite suitable,” Hermione replied. Her attention was primarily on her plate, but she had also decided wine was a very nice choice. She sipped at her glass quite frequently.

“He doesn’t like the cottage as much when you’re not in it. He was quite dismayed after the ball.”

“So sell the cottage and move to another property.”

“Not in a million years. I quite like the cottage. You know how enjoyable the grounds are.”

Hermione raised her eyes to his and said, “I’m sure you’ve plenty of other properties that are as nice, if not more so.”

“I’ve learned that it’s less about the grounds than it is about the company one keeps. I’d gladly live in a hovel as long as my bed was properly warm.” Draco, seeing that Hermione’s plate was empty, gathered everything together and removed it with a wave of his wand.

The next course appeared, and they began to eat again. While Hermione studiously ignored him, he filled her wine glass quite full, put a bit more in his, and set the empty bottle aside.

It disappeared and a second bottle of the same vintage appeared.

Hermione seemed to notice nothing at all.

When colour had risen in her cheeks, Draco struck up quiet conversation again. “How was your meeting with Benson this week?”

“He’s still a pillock.” Hermione said. She reached for her wineglass and drank deeply, as Benson often inspired her to do. Then, she leaned back into her chair and began to recount the hour-long board meeting with said pillock and his pillock friends. She concluded by saying, “I came through at the end however, and the action is moving forward. Stop looking at me like that.”

Draco put down his knife and fork and raised his hands as if to surrender. “You know I find you to be quite pleasant to look at.”

“Stop being nice. Draco Malfoy isn’t nice. He’s a conniving prat who ate something spoiled and thinks he’s in love with me.”

“Mipsy would never allow such things, as you very well know.”

Hermione stuck her tongue out at him. “Can’t we just have nice time, Draco?”

“Are you admitting you have a nice time with me, Hermione?”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, of course. That doesn’t mean, however, that we should be married. Why complicate this unnecessarily?”

“I never let an outstanding opportunity slip through my fingers.” Draco leaned forward onto the table. “Why are you so resistant?”

“What am I supposed to do? Simply chuck out my entire life and move into your house? What will the papers say? And Harry? And Arthur and Molly? And my parents? And your parents! Draco, this isn’t so simple as you are pretending this is.”

“It’s as simple as we want it to be. We can give it as much time as you like.”

Hermione tipped her wine glass up into her mouth until it was empty. “Ha! You say that, and yet I’m already the Mistress of your bloody cottage! And what of Sco–!” Stopping suddenly, Hermione checked herself and looked around the restaurant.

“What of your son? Am I to marry him as well? Is this going to be some wholly inappropriate threesome?”

Draco looked at her conspiratorially. “I see you’ve been working through this.”

Rolling her eyes, Hermione put more wine in her glass. “Only enough to wonder how I dared get into this mess.”

Reaching across the table, Draco traced his fingertip over the back of Hermione’s hand. “You can warm his bed as much as you two like, but you’ll be only my wife. I was perfectly serious when I told you I’d never had sex with a pregnant woman. Now, I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“What if Scorpius wants more? What about his life?”

“He can marry someone his mother likes should his desires change. She’s had a list prepared since he was born. I’m confident he’d be ecstatic with our arrangement.”

Hermione picked up her fork and returned her attentions to her plate. She did not withdraw her other hand, however, and Draco seized the opportunity to stroke her skin.

When the dinner plates vanished and desert appeared, Hermione returned once more to her wine glass. “And what if I don’t want kids now? What if I gave up on all that when Ronald died? All my friends’ kids have grown up. Everyone is moving on.”

Draco pushed his dessert away from him and replied, “This can be your moving on, Hermione. Yes, Lily Potter is about to finish at Hogwarts and then it will all be over for them, but those aren’t your children, and your life doesn’t have to be defined by their doings anymore.”

Hermione stared at her dessert and set her wineglass down. “I’m pissed, Draco. Why would you let me drink so much wine?” She lifted her napkin to her mouth, covering up a little burp.

“Sometimes the only way to talk sense to you is to rob you of some of your sense. Come home with me tonight. We can pick this up in the morning.”

Hermione stared at her plate, her brow folding together as she tried to align her thoughts. “Why aren’t you drunk at all?”

“I told you, I had a bezoar. Won’t you come to mine? That huge, soft bed. And the tub?”

“Fine. But this conversation isn’t over!”

Draco pushed away from the table and moved to help Hermione to stand. He pulled her body close, preparing her to Disapparate, and whispered, “I promise, it’s only just begun.”

* * *

_Sunday_

Hermione woke up feeling as though death was truly at her door. Consciousness came to her in a flash, and she worked to assess what she could with her limited faculties. From the silken soft linens and the impossibly comfy mattress, she knew she was at Draco’s.

She vaguely remembered leaving the restaurant that night, wrapped in his arms until they arrived in the receiving room. It was at that point that the wine revolted and she sicked up all over the receiving room floor.

Humiliation flushed hot over Hermione’s body. She dared cracked an eye open. Around her it was blissfully dark. The curtains around the bed had been drawn. Of course, this gave her absolutely no clue to the time of day it was.

Easing herself up on her hands and knees, Hermione rolled to sit. She moved with great tenderness, trying not to agitate her constitution. She moved the end of the bed, definitely hearing nature’s call.

Hermione brushed the curtain open just sliver, and the bedroom drapes were also drawn. She could see bright lights on the floor, though, indicating that the sun must be quite high.Padding to the loo, Hermione took care of her most immediate and urgent needs.

When she was finished, she put a cold cloth on her face. It was refreshing, and she looked in the mirror. She had some crow’s feet by her eyes and a few laugh lines on her lips. She thought of what Draco said last night, or what she thought he’d said.

Could she really have a child now? Could she really do the things she’d tried to put out of her mind?

Hanging the cloth on the rack, Hermione left the loo, finally noticing the soft and sheer nightdress she was wearing. She made her way to the bed, but noticed two blond men, each bent over a book, sitting in the chairs they’d occupied just a couple of weeks ago. On the table under a glass lid was a meal.

Hermione was quite famished. She snuck into the sitting room, hoping to delay any conversation. When Draco lifted his eyes to her, she replied with one finger. She lifted the tray with breakfast on it and moved back to the bed.

Not sure how her stomach was doing, Hermione began with the toast. However, it was not long before the eggs, sausage, and everything else was put away and washed down with a strong cup of tea.

“Mipsy,” she whispered.

The elf appeared without a noise on the bed inside the curtains. “Yes, Mistress?” she whispered.

“I’ve finished my breakfast, if you’ll take it away, please.”

“Mipsy be happy to take Mistress’s tray, Mistress.”

Hermione smiled at the elf, who seemed delighted to see her.

“Is Mistress staying?”

“For now, Mipsy.”

Then, Mipsy bowed her head and vanished away.

Hermione could not delay any longer. Fortified by her breakfast, she walked once more into the sitting room. Draco and Scorpius were quite obviously waiting for her now.

“Good morning,” Hermione whispered.

They were both dressed for the day, and she realised just how unsubstantial her nightgown was.

“There’s a potion on the table if you like.” Draco looked up at her from his chair, smugness and satisfaction plain on his face.

Hermione looked at the table once more. She considered taking it but did not feel so bad at all any more. She shook her head. “Have you been waiting long?”

Draco waved a his hand at her, beckoning her to him. When she was in arm’s reach, he took her hand in his. “Not long.” Then, he pulled something out of his pocket. It caught what little light was in the room.

Hermione bent closer to see what it was, but before she could see it closely, Draco was sliding it over her finger. “What’s this?”

“It’s yours. It’s a fire opal.”

“It’s huge! I could kill a man with this, Draco.”

His hands slid over her hips, and he looked up at her. Six carats. And I just got it, so try to refrain from fisticuffs, if you can manage.”

From across the room, Scorpius cleared his throat. Draco whispered that she should say hello, and Hermione turned and stepped closer to Scorpius. He was looking up at her with delighted anticipation.

“Good morning, Scorpius.”

“Good morning, Mrs Weasley.” Scorpius licked his lips and let his eyes wander to her bosom.

Bracing herself with her hands on the chair’s armrests, Hermione leaned over him. “Your father is set on changing my last name.”

“You’ll always be ‘Mrs Weasley’ to me.” Scorpius lifted one hand and pulled the neckline of her nightgown away from her breasts. His hand slipped inside, cupping her breast in his palm. He watched her face as his palm smoothed over her nipple and around and back again. His fingertips came over it, and he teased her by pinching in that way she quite liked.

Hermione’s arse thrust back. Then, she crawled into Scorpius’s lap, pulling down the sleeves of her nightgown and revealing her chest to him.

He leaned forward to suck her breasts. He moved between them, and soon, Hermione was grinding against him. His hands came up, and Scorpius raised his chin and looked into her eyes. “You won’t leave again, will you?”

Smoothing her fingers through his hair, Hermione whispered, “We haven’t worked that out yet.” Scorpius yielded under her touch, and she pet his hair again and again.

“But we– I mean, I feel– …and my father…”

Hermione shushed him and pressed their mouths together. She tried to find an apology with her kiss.

Scorpius’s arms wrapped around her, and he returned the kiss with increasing passion. It became a battle of wills, and Hermione soon forgot what she was trying to communicate. Instead, she found her nightgown increasingly restrictive and wriggled to free her legs.

When she could finally straddle him properly, she broke the kiss and pulled his mouth back to her breast. She was grinding on his clothed erection and moaning softly when she opened her eyes and found Draco standing behind Scorpius’s chair. He was watching. He was jealous as usual, but clearly aroused as well.

Hermione lifted her ring to her mouth and sucked the stone between her lips.

Draco’s nostrils flared, and Hermione moaned louder than before.

Hermione pulled her breast away from Scorpius, who moved immediately to the other. Then, she lifted her breast in her hand, the warm metal smoothing over nipple when she squeezed her breast. Finally, she sucked her breast between her lips.

Draco’s lip curled at her, and he leaned over the back of the chair.

With Scorpius bent to his task, Draco was able to be quite close. Letting her breast fall back into her hand, Hermione mouthed, “Strip.” Her body was undulating atop Scorpius’s lap, but Draco had her full attention for the moment.

“Please, Draco,” she added in silence.

Scorpius’s greedy hands were moving over her body, and his mouth was now nipping over her skin, licking and dragging his teeth where he could. 

Behind him, his father began to undress. It was slow and measured and gave Hermione every indication that he was only beginning as well.

Still, for now she was queen. Or rather, she was the mistress. Hermione bent her mouth to Scorpius’s ear, turning so she could hold Draco’s eye. “Did you think about me this week?” she whispered loudly, scraping her teeth over his earlobe.

Beneath her mouth, Scorpius nodded. He had to swallow to keep control.

Hermione watched as Draco nodded as well. His hand was pulling his cock away from his body in a teasing motion.

“Did you think about me _nude_? Did you want this?”

“God, yes!” Scorpius moaned and pulled her body down to his. He was strong and almost out of control.

Hermione felt the tip of his cock through his clothes and rubbed her clit over it. She arched back, using it as an excuse to peek at Draco with hooded eyes. He was watching her, his neck and chest flushed red with little rosy spots on his cheeks.

Scorpius, though, could not back down, and held her hips against his, rutting until he shot off in his trousers. He tumbled into ecstasy holding her hips in his hands and thrusting up into her. He shouted, and it became hoarse as he found he could not stop himself. As it drew to a close, he pulled Hermione’s body against his.

His breath was panting, hot on her chest. When his breathing slowed, he mumbled, “I haven’t come in my pants this much since I was twelve.”

Smiling, Hermione pulled his arms from around her. She kissed him and whispered to go to her bath and clean up, to have a nap in her bed. Finally, she slid from his thighs, and her nightgown slid from her body.

He would not be completely deterred, however. Scorpius stood and wrapped his arms around her and kissed her neck. “I’ll do better next time.”

“Of course you will.”

Not sparing a look back, at his father, Scorpius moved to the bathroom.

At first, Hermione didn’t look to Draco either. She smoothed her hands over her arms and breasts, down her thighs and in between. She was quite wet, quite hot. She played with the opal on her hand and shivered when the air became too much.

When it couldn’t be delayed any longer, Hermione stepped back into the chair, kneeling with the seat back between her and Draco. She lifted the ring so she could look at it. It was breath-taking.

“Do you like it?”

“Draco, it’s so gorgeous. It’s too much.”

“I think it suits your finger perfectly.” He touched the top of the ring and slid his fingers over the back of her hand, on to her arm. “I meant everything I said after the masq.”

Hermione pressed her lips together a moment. “Good shagging doesn’t make for a perfect future.”

“It’s a far better start than rubbish shagging, when one absolutely must.” Draco continued sliding his hand up her arm, teasing her skin with a caress.

“Hermione,” he said and drew a breath. “We never argue. We understand each other’s career. We both want more from this life. We know about each other’s life in the war. There is nothing holding us back.”

With his hand under her jaw, Draco lifted her mouth to his. He was confident and calm, and Hermione rose to meet his lips even as he began to pull away.

Hermione moved to stand, going so far as to climb over the low back of the chair. Holding his shoulders, she perched there and looked up at him. “What if I can’t be who you think you want? What if you are disappointed?”

“Apart from my son, the past few months with you have been the single most delightful and exhilarating time in my entire life.” Draco stepped between her thighs and licked his lips.

Watching her gaze, he positioned his cock at her opening and pushed in. “This is what I want.” He pulled away and pushed forward again. “This is where I belong.” Eyes locked with hers, Draco began taking long, full strokes in and out of her body.

Hermione’s head fell forward, and her grip on him tightened.

Draco reached beneath her thighs and lifted her up, wrapping her legs around him. Turning, he positioned her between the wall and his body. Like the week before, he moved her into the goddess pose, arms bent softly overhead, feet hooking together as her legs came around him. Draco began building a rhythm, and when he was ready, he dropped his mouth by her ear.

“I love you, Hermione,” he began. “It’s mad. I love you so much.” His teeth brushed the shell of her ear as he rolled his hips into her. “I cannot say enough. What can I say so you’ll know?” Draco’s hands moved up to her breasts, squeezing as his pace increased. “Believe me. Please. Please.”

Hermione arched back and moaned quite loudly.

Grabbing her arse, Draco moved so that she would take him in completely. Then, he twined his fingers in with hers. “I know it’s hard for you. Harder, Hermione. I know. I’ll wait as long as it takes. Just, please, please, give us this chance.”

As he finished, he kissed her. It was devouring, needy. He pulled her body close, away from the wall so it was just them, just him swallowing her moans as she clung to him, as he pushed into her again and again.

When it was all over, Draco’s knees buckled, and they landed in a heap on the floor. He held tight, though, and rolled her beneath him as soon as he could, kneeling over her on his hands and knees.

They caught their breath.

Hermione closed her eyes, feeling sated and exhilarated.

When Draco’s mind returned, he began touching her body, smoothing his hand over her. “The one time I want you to tell me something, and you’ve not said a word,” Draco whispered.

Without opening her eyes, Hermione smiled. His seed was starting to drip between her thighs, and she had certainly noticed the spell on her ring activate as he made his declarations. The veracity of his words had brought her to the most brilliant climax of her life.

Reaching up, Hermione stilled his hand in hers. “Yes, Draco. Yes.”

His reaction was delayed. As though he hadn’t heard her, he blinked. A smile flashed for half a moment, disappearing as he understood what she was saying. Then, his grin was brilliant as well, rivalling Ron’s on their wedding day and Harry’s when his kids were born.

Hermione stroked her hand over Draco’s cheek, pulled him down for a gentle kiss. When they finished, Hermione asked, “Shall we get up from the floor now?”

Draco rose and helped her to stand. He pulled her close, smiling and kissing her softly. He kept at it for some time, until she began to pull away.

“Draco, I need to wash up.”

His hands slid down to her arse, and he pulled their hips together. “Do you?”

Hermione looked up at him.

He was giddy.

Still, the sensation of wetness between her thighs¬ was not her favourite. “Draco. Come along.” Her hands found his, and she released his hold. Turning, she pulled him from the sitting area toward the bed.

Stopping short, Hermione smiled at Scorpius.

He couldn’t see her: his hands were covering his face. His neck and shoulders were pink, and there was a towel over hips. Beneath his towel, he was quite aroused.

She kept walking past him, although Draco let her proceed to the loo by herself. Once there she took off her ring and set it on a glass shelf by the mirror. She looked at it for a second, flexing her fingers. However, there were more important issues at the moment.

Sliding into the steaming tub, Hermione groaned as her muscles all responding to the heat. It was so hot, almost too much, but her body was so grateful. She stretched and let her body sink under the water.

Rolling her head back and forth, she felt the water saturate her curls, her scalp tingling as her body adjust to the water. Hermione rose for a breath and rubbed the water out of her eyes.

This bath tub was beyond luxurious. She looked around the bathroom. It was a treat. She could certainly get used to this.

Reaching between her thighs, Hermione wiped away Draco’s slick seed.

She remembered his smile when she’d said yes, and her heart began to race. Hermione Malfoy. She took a deep breath and tucked her body into the water. Then she let it out in a scream, shaking her body, splashing and twisting in the bubbles of her voice. It was thrilling but terrifying as well. She decided it was best not to think about that.

She was _not_ ready, but Draco had said that he understood that. Besides, they had time.

Hermione pulled herself from the tub and towelled dry.

Once the ring was on her finger, she left the bathroom, towelling her hair, since it seemed to take on water at an exponential rate. From the doorway, she surveyed the bed room.

Scorpius was now resting with his head on his hands, cock still jutting up proudly from beneath his towel. Draco sat in a chair on the balcony, his hands also behind his head. He was leaning back, and his legs extended out before him, crossed at the ankles.

She walked to him, quiet but casually. She felt at perfect ease. When he looked up and caught her eye, he smile; she smiled back.

“Siren.” Draco’s eyes traced over her.

The lingered on her breasts, her hips, and then, her ring. She grabbed her breast, squeezing it, and kissing the ring. “I’ll not wear it out much for a while. It’s quite stunning, Draco.”

Draco rolled his eyes but didn’t fight her on it. Instead, he reached out and touched her thigh. “You look one hundred percent shag-able right now. Unfortunately, I don’t think I’m ready for the task.” His fingers slid of her skin, and then through the slit of her quim. He teased her clit, looking up at her face after a moment.

Hermione dropped her voice so only he would hear. “You could just finger me until you’re ready to fuck.”

“I could. Or, I could watch you ride a cock. He’s been very patient and surprisingly subservient about all this.”

Hermione bent over, grinding her hips as Draco continued to rub her clit. “You like watching me fuck him.”

Draco swallowed, and heat filled his cheeks.

“His cock isn’t as nice as yours, Draco. It’s good, but yours is better,” Hermione whispered.

“He’s still learning.”

“Shall I give another lesson, then?” Hermione kissed Draco’s temple. She dropped the towel she’d used on her hair into Draco’s lap.

She turned slowly, pivoting on one toe, and sauntered to the bed. She heard Draco stand behind her, following her to the bed, as well.

Before Scorpius noticed her, Hermione was on the bed, untucking the towel from around his hips. Scorpius startled, but stilled as Hermione took him into her mouth.

Using her hand, she stroked down his shaft just before her mouth followed. His hips reflexively pushed up, pressing the head of his cock into the roof of her mouth.

Scorpius let out a little grunt, his hips moving up again and again.

Hermione gripped his hip in her free hand, determined to match his pace. The first time she was able to take all of him, Scorpius groaned quite loudly.

His hands moved to her hair, which he squeezed between his fingers.

Engrossed in what she was doing, Hermione was not expecting Draco to tickle his fingertips down her back. She shivered.

Then, his hands gripped her arse, separating the cheeks, exposing her secret places. Hermione moaned around Scorpius’s cock.

Draco had spent countless hours exploring her, much to her ultimate delight. Now, Hermione was getting lost in her ever increasing arousal.

That was how Scorpius caught her off guard as well, He moved her hair from her face, gripping it tightly in his fist. Scorpius took control of how much or little cock she got to have.

Hermione looked up at him.

His lip was curled in a little sneer, but his eyes glittered with his delight. Scorpius licked his lip and blew her a kiss. He was holding his cock now, feeding it to her as he encouraged her deeper with his hand in her hair.

Draco slid two fingers into her wet quim, and Hermione moaned. “Naughty,” he whispered. He seemed to approve, though, and continued to squeeze her arse as he began to finger her. It was slow, teasing. Draco was well practiced with this.

Scorpius pushed her mouth all the way down his cock, holding her there for almost as long as she could manage. Just before Hermione thought she wouldn’t be able to take it, he released her.

“Suck me as you’d like me to fuck you, Mrs Weasley,” Scorpius announced. His voice was clear and firm, and he stared straight at her.

Hermione pulled back, kneeling a moment before adjusting her legs, spreading them wider for Draco. Then she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and leaned of Scorpius’s cock once more. She began to bob as quick as she could, slobbering over it.

She was messy and loud, but Draco was gaining speed as well. His hand was tight on her arse as he pushed three fingers into her again and again.

Scorpius continued to play with her hair. He stroked it and tossed it away from her face.

When she managed something he quite enjoyed, such as licking the opening as she caught her breath a bit, Scorpius would pull her hair, urging her closer. When he ran out of patience, Scorpius reached both hands under her arms, hauling her up and on top of his body.

He had her on her back in the blink of an eye, and in the next he was sheathed inside of her. Scorpius grabbed her wrists and pushed her hands over her head. He bent over her nipples, sucking hard, enough that Hermione’s body bowed toward him as he did.

“I want to always fuck you,” Scorpius declared. He matched his words with action, beginning to thrust into her as hard as he could. He tried to be slow, thorough at first, but soon he was rutting into her as quickly as he could manage.

Hermione could feel his thrusts pushing her body more and more each time. She opened her eyes to look at him. Their eyes met for a moment, and it spurred him further. Hermione’s head rolled to the side.

There, she found Draco watching her, smelling his fingers. His face betrayed the same sentiment his son had.

She felt drunk. Her body was hot, sweating, sticking to Scorpius where they touched. The room began to spin, and Draco was there, watch her get pounded, watching when Scorpius pulled her hips back to the centre of the bed and then tucked her feet behind her head.

Draco stared at her face, at her tits.

His lip curled, and he reached over, pushing the fingers he’d been smelling between her lips.

Hermione sucked his fingers, licked them as much as she could. She closed her eyes, whining as Scorpius drove into her as her mouth was full. Her hands moved to her breasts, but they were batted away. Instead, Draco grabbed them, squeezing them with his free hand.

He began to tweak her nipples until her voice was raw from the moaning. He left off after she’d gotten quite loud. Draco stepped back to resume watching her.

“You feel bloody perfect, Mrs Weasley,” Scorpius said. He was panting, but his pace was steady. He was hard and fast. The only sign that he might not be able to do it indefinitely was the sweat dripping from his temple.

With his hands on his ankles, he spread her thighs so she was open to the room. Scorpius watched as he disappeared into her again and again.

Hermione reached down to rub her clit, but again her hand was batted away.

“Your cunt is gorgeous when it’s been taking cock all day.”

His name hissed from her lips, and Hermione tried again to play with her clit.

He wouldn’t allow it, pausing to drag her back to the centre of the bed yet again. Then he pulled her legs open wider still, wider than she would otherwise stretch. “I’ve had to entertain such –” Scorpius paused to roll his hips, turning them to bury him cock as deep as he could inside her. “Such dull witches, Mrs Weasley. All I could think about was your cunt.” He returned one leg to his shoulder, but pushed the other thigh against her chest.

He leaned over her and lowered his voice. “Your gorgeous pussy and how well it can take a Malfoy cock, Mrs Weasley.” Scorpius pushed his mouth against hers, and his tongue thrust into her mouth as his cock pumped into her pussy.

He let her legs go, and they wound around his arse. As they snogged, Scorpius lost his good rhythm. He lost control, and soon he was coming apart.

Hermione wrapped her arms around him as well, holding him tight against her body. His body quaked in her arms. Scorpius's frame was wracked with the conflicting forces of his orgasm and desire to fuck Hermione harder, faster. His breath panted hot on her shoulder; her breath was cool on his temple.

Once he was ready, Scorpius withdrew from her. He whimpered as his cock fell from inside her and fell back. He curled on his side, and let a long raspy breath through his mouth.

Hermione looked him and smiled. She stretched, the soles of her feet brushing against Scorpius's legs. Her joints cracked a bit from being over extended, and she rolled to her side as well. "Marvellous," Hermione said in a quiet voice.

Moving to her hands and knees, she crawled to stroke the hair away from his face and kiss him. Over-sensitive, he flinched when her lips touched his skin.

Hermione chuckled softly, turning to set her sights on Draco. Kneeling back, she let her hands trace over her skin. She was delightfully sensitive after her thorough shag.

She watched Draco watching her. When he beckoned her closer with a wave of her fingers, Hermione blew him a kiss before prowling across the bed. As she came within arm's reach, Draco began to pet her hair with one hand and offer her his cock with the other.

Hermione wrapped her lips around his cock and looked up at him, her hips swinging as her cheeks hollowed out.

"Gorgeous," Draco growled.

Hermione blinked up at him, his cock sliding from her mouth a bit.

Draco encouraged her to lean her head back.

Her mouth opened, and she let him slide the tip of his cock over her lips.

"Absolutely gorgeous. Shall we further the debauchery?" Draco tapped his cock on her lower lip.

"Yes, please." Hermione smiled up at him, and her lips came around his cock once more. She didn't stop until Scorpius's hand was on the inside of her thigh.

Hermione pulled away from Draco until he _pop_ ped out from her mouth. She twisted back to blow Scorpius a kiss.

She found him sitting up, watching intently. Hermione moved to sit on the side of the bed, putting herself on display for Scorpius. He was behind her, so she shook out her hair, tossing and rolling her shoulders. She put her hands at the smallest part of her torso, stroking down to her hips. Then she brought her hands up, playing with her breasts with her arms elbows tucked next to her body.

Hermione turned her gaze up to Draco. He stepped closer and rubbed the tip of his dripping cock across and between her nipples. She hummed and whispered his name.

“Louder,” Draco insisted. He pulled back, withholding his cock from her.

“Draco. Please.” Hermione stared at his cock, licking her lips. Her hips slid closer to the edge of the bed.

“You’ve already been fucked so well.”

“But I love your cock, Draco.”

“You do, do you?” Draco moved forward again. They’d played this game a few times, particularly after he’d fought with his ex in their few dealings.

Hermione nodded. From the corner of her eye, she saw Scorpius moving to the corner of the bed to watch him. “Don’t you like my breasts?”

“I very much do, Granger. Great tits, you have.”

Hermione leaned forward, and Draco slid the tip of his cock between them. Her hands came up, squeezing her tits around his cock.

“You’d like me to fuck those tits?”

Her reply was a smile and a strong nod.

“Aren’t you already full enough of cum?”

Her smile widened, and she shook her head ‘no’.

“Spread your legs for us. Show me.”

Hermione did. She leaned back and opened her thighs as much as she could. Then, she reached down, pulling her labia with both hands.

“I can see it dripping out of your cunt, Granger. You like Malfoy seed, don’t you?”

“Yes, Draco.”

“And who do you like to shag as much as you can?”

“You, Draco.”

“A proper shag, isn’t it?”

“Right proper.” Hermione closed her eyes. Feeling Draco’s intensity increase, knowing Scorpius was watching them, made her wet all over again. Her sense were already buzzing from how Scorpius had fucked her, and now she wanted Draco’s cock. Her hips pushed into the mattress, and her back arched off the bed. “Please, Draco.”

“Frig yourself.”

Hermione whined, but her fingers went back to her cunt. She pushed three fingers of one hand into her pussy as deep as she could, and then plucked at her clit with her other fingers.

Scorpius cleared his throat. “Father, why d–”

His voice startled Hermione. She turned her head and looked at them. Draco had a finger up, silencing Scorpius.

“She is showing us what she likes. Pay attention.”

“I like your cock, Draco.”

“She likes to say lewd things, too,” Draco said in an offhand way.

Scorpius was watching her, and that helped her to find the electric moment ever faster. “Yes. Are you pulling your cock, Draco?”

“Of course. Moan for me, and I’ll fuck your tits like you want.”

So, Hermione did. She fingered her pussy hard and fast, and swept her thumb over her clit as quickly as she could. She wriggled to get her heels on the edge of the bed, and her hips pressed up hard and fast, fucking her hand and arching against nothing.

Her orgasm rolled through her body enough to lose her footing on the bed. Hermione’s back arched, and she slid a bit toward the edge of the bed.

Draco caught her thigh, and moved her body, still twitching, to a position he liked. He climbed on top of her, kneeling over her torso, and began to wank over her tits. Hermione gripped his thighs, scratching them a bit before grabbing her breasts and squeezing them around his cock. Draco growled, fucking them furiously until he was squirting over her neck and chest. He managed to get some on her chin, as well, which pleased Hermione quite a bit.

She laid on the bed after, smiling with her eyes closed. She felt Draco move from the bed to get a cloth to clean her, and Scorpius stayed perfectly still in the corner of the mattress. Hermione whispered his name, and he laid down next to her but did not touch her.

Draco returned and cleaned his mess with a soft, warm cloth. He dallied over her tits and massaged her thighs. Then he Vanished the cloths to the laundry and found his place on the opposite side of Hermione. His hand was flat and warm on her belly, which grumbled after a moment.

Hermione cleared her throat. “Lunch, I think. Then I really must get ready for work tomorrow.”

“Perhaps,” replied Draco. Then he bowed his head over her breast, sucking her nipple softly and licking it until Hermione began to wriggle. He didn’t stop until Hermione’s hand on his shoulder pushed him away.

Again, her belly grumbled.

“I’ll let Mipsy know we’re ready for lunch,” Scorpius said and slid from the bed.

Hermione watched him walk away from the bed, his posture as proud and arrogant as if he were wearing his finest dress robes.

Draco kissed her neck a few times but withdrew from her as well. “I’ll have a quick wash before lunch, as well. There’s a sultry something in the wardrobe I’d love you to wear to lunch.”

She nodded up at him.

He gave a long look over her body, and turned to leave.

Hermione watched him walk away, and when the door _click_ ed shut, she stretched and rubbed her eyes. Determined not to let her mind run away with her, she moved to the wardrobe and found the robes Draco had left for her.

The soft smooth fabric slid over her body, and she walked to the dining room just as she was, famished, but feeling completely at home.


	9. Epilogue

_Friday  
20 December, 2025_

Hermione wiped her hands on her denims, trying to soothe her nerves. She and Ginny were cooking dinner, and Draco was due to step through the Floo at any moment. Her ears were tuned to the fireplace, and she couldn’t help but steal glances at it.

“‘Mione, relax. We’ve all met Draco before,” Ginny said and smoothed her hand over Hermione’s back for a moment. Then, she went back to the pots on the cooktop.

Keeping her jitters at bay, Hermione could only think: _not like this, you haven’t!_

Ginny and Harry had no sodding idea about the fire opal ring she was going to show them after dinner if this went well. They had no idea about the… ‘brush’ with pregnancy she thought she’d had at the beginning of the month. Apart from actually enjoying the so-called ‘first date’ (and subsequent ones every week) she’d had with Draco a few weeks ago, they had no idea.

To make it worse, and what made Hermione truly suspicious, was that Harry was being rather mum about tonight. It was a trial run of sorts, a pre-holiday test run to see if Draco could actually float into her proper life as easily as he thought he could.

However, Harry Potter was not the sort to sit on a secret. He was the sort to fly in headlong, perhaps with his broom alight. He could be truly unpredictable, to her near-constant consternation over the last thirty-odd years.

Hermione had no idea what to begin to expect, but her imagination kept turning to various scenarios where wands were drawn and furniture was over-turned.

She was so lost in her thoughts that Draco and Scorpius were through the Floo and dusting off before she noticed. Luckily, Al was by the fireplace with his book and jumped to play the proper host.

“Good evening, Mr Malfoy,” Al said as he helped him shrug off his traveling cloak.

Hermione watched Draco appraise Al, his eyes lingering on the Slytherin signet for a long moment before Scorpius stepped forward to introduce them officially. Hermione watched, but stayed as still as a statue until Ginny’s shoulder brushed past her own.

Al began introducing his parents, but stopped short. Clearly, they all already knew each other.

The five of them slid into silence a moment, and Draco bent to look at her between Harry and Ginny. The prat even winked at her in front of everyone.

Hermione wiped her hands on her denims again and rolled her eyes. Luckily, James and Lily chose that moment to burst through the kitchen door, Lily chasing James as he chased after a golden Snitch. An arctic gust chased after all of it, and Hermione slammed the door shut with her wand and an overly enthusiastic spell. The kids did laps around the high, vaulted ceiling as the Snitch whizzed around the sitting room. Lily and James, on brooms, moved to hover over everyone’s head. Ever the Seekers, Scorpius, Harry, and Draco all began to eye the little golden ball as it flew through the air.

Hermione backed against the side of the icebox, feeling as though she were watching all this on telly. Harry and Scorpius continued to watch the Snitch, but Draco’s attention turned to Harry. He watched Harry watching the Snitch, and when it next flew through the small crowd, Draco’s hand reached just in front of Harry’s to intercept it.

Draco’s face lit up with a smug smirk, and Hermione felt a smile spread on her face as well.

Al placed his hand under Draco’s and Harry’s hands and said, “One hundred fifty points for Slytherin.”

Draco dropped the ball into Al’s hand, and he tossed it up to James. Then, Ginny told the kids to put the brooms in the shed and come have dinner, and the room came to life again. Under his breath, Harry challenged Draco to a rematch. Hermione’s heart thudded in her chest, and she busied her hands with getting the food to the table.

“Are there often Quidditch practices in your sitting room, Potter?” Draco, asked, turning his eyes up to the ceiling. He stepped back as he looked up, his path wending toward Hermione.

“Fewer now that the kids ‘ve grown.”

“Lucky, then, that you’ve such high ceilings.”

Ginny smiled. “No luck to it, really.”

“We put the children on brooms as soon as they were able,” Harry added, smiling back at Ginny. “It was one thing for them to fly around inside when they were two feet tall, but Al shot up after his first year at Hogwarts and put a hole in the ceiling.”

Draco, now within arm’s reach of Hermione, slid his hand across her shoulder blades. “I read that your house is situated on a hundred acres. You can’t tell me there’s no room to fly outside.”

Harry shrugged. “We couldn’t keep the Snitch out. We tried every kind of jinx, but nothing works. Hermione reckons it ‘thinks’ it’s part of the family.”

“It’s the first Snitch Harry caught. Dumbledore left it to him,” Hermione stood next to Draco, feeling her face get hot as Draco’s hand slid over her arse. They were standing opposite Harry and Ginny, and Hermione did her best to act naturally.

Draco hummed.

Ginny, ever observant, moved her attention to Hermione. Ginny’s chin turned as though she were a bird looking for a tasty morsel, and, when Hermione could feel her cheeks blazing hot, Ginny smirked. “Butterbeer, Malfoy?”

“Please,” Draco said, daring even to slide his fingertips in Hermione’s back pocket. “Scorpius, have you something for the Potters?”

“Yes, Father!” Scorpius called from the sitting room where he and Al were discussing something in hushed voices. Scorpius walked into the kitchen, and pulled a small black box from his pocket.

Harry took the box and set it on the breakfast table. Ginny came ‘round with a butterbeer for Draco and stepped closer to Harry as he opened the box.

A white cloud rolled out from the sides as he lifted the lid. Inside, five wooden carvings were sat in a circle.

“Impossible,” muttered Harry as a lopsided grin crossed his face.

“Are they really?” Ginny asked as she reached out. A carved horse four inches high stomped on the green velvet lining. It whinnied, Ginny scooped it up. “Al, come look! Our Patronuses!”

“How did you?” Harry reached down, and a five-inch stag leapt into his hand. “Al, there’s a Airedale.”

Indeed, and to scale with the others, a small Airedale terrier was waiting for Al.

“Go get the others,” Ginny said.

“They’ll come in. They know it’s supper time,” Al said as he cradled the figurine in his hand. His book was forgotten on the table as he walked back to the sitting room with his new prize.

Ginny rolled her eyes. Turning, she pointed her wand at the clock on the wall. From outside, they could hear her voice calling for James Sirius and Lily Luna. When she turned back, Draco and Scorpius were looking at her with surprise on their faces.

“What?” she asked. “Like you said, Draco, it’s a hundred acres. Those two would stay on their brooms all night if they didn’t absolutely have to come in to eat on occasion.”

“It’s freezing out.”

“They’re Potters,” Hermione said, mostly under her breath.

“Oi. I’ve been known to be pretty good on a broom, too,” Ginny retorted, although she was still petting the horse that was in the palm of her hand.

Hermione’s simply stuck her tongue out in reply. In return, Ginny pulled a face.

Draco watched them, and his face went politely blank. His hand drifted up to the small of Hermione’s back. With his fingers pressing into her back, he pulled her closer to him.

Harry cleared his throat loudly. “Thanks a lot, Mal – erm… Draco.” Harry paused to sniff and watch his stag climb walk across his wrist to his flattened arm. “I can’t imagine how you fathomed all of this.”

Inching closer to Hermione, Draco shook his head softly. “Well, I can’t let go of all of my secrets, but I will point out that Scorpius has spent a fair amount of time at your table.”

Harry turned his smile to Scorpius, and Draco looked positively victorious in his pride in his son. Scorpius took this opportunity to move between Harry and Hermione.

Ginny frowned at Scorpius as though he was one of her rascal brothers. “Isn’t that _curious_.” She carefully dropped the little horse into its box.

“My father taught me that a good gift is worth far more than it costs in Galleons.”

In a flash, Ginny seized on this idea. “Isn’t it funny, then, that Draco hasn’t given Hermione any gifts? I can tell he’s about ready to throw her over his shoulder, at the very least.”

Hermione gasped and stomped her foot. “Ginny, oh my word.” Then, for good measure, she smacked Scorpius in his shoulder and gave him an evil look.

Ginny could not be put off. “Let’s see it, Hermione.”

Once more, Hermione felt her cheeks get hot. Her lips came together in a hard pucker, and she reached into her pocket, which she had charmed to make the ring completely invisible while it was there.

Before she could pull her hand out, Ginny stopped her, grabbing her arm. “If you are about to pull out a ring, it had bloody well be on your finger, Hermione Jean Granger Weasley, and then you and I are going to have a long talk, because you are not getting away with this.”

Behind them, James and Lily came through the kitchen door, shutting it with a loud bang. Everyone looked at them for a moment, and the two stared back, obviously aware that they’d interrupted something, and both very aware of the tone of their mother’s voice.

“Dad, who’s mum telling off?” Lily asked in a whisper.

Ginny snapped her fingers and pointed at her daughter to be silent. Meanwhile, Hermione looked up at the ceiling as she tried to work her finger through the ring in her pocket. When it was finally settled, she closed her eyes and pulled out her hand. She held it in front of her face. Harry and James both let out long whistles. Ginny grabbed Hermione’s wrist to get a better look, and Lily made her way to them in a flash.

“Wow,” Lily said, watching the ring catch the light.

Ginny let Lily in front of her and stepped closer to Draco. She appraised him with the cold look of a woman who’s kids had brought a soaking wet, mangy old mutt to her door. For the first time that night, Draco began to pull his arms to his sides, away from Hermione.

With a look of great forbearance, Ginny lifted her hands up as if she were questioning something. Draco gave her a sidelong glance, freezing as Ginny stepped forward. Finally, she wrapped her arms around his torso under his ribs. She took a deep breath, sighing into the embrace.

Draco remained still for as long as he could manage. Just as he was about to return the hug, however, Ginny turned her head to the other side and said, “I will end you, if it comes to that.”

That brought a smile to his face. “I’m have no doubt.” Then, his hand stroked down her hair.

They looked at each other, a cold truce formed between them. As the two old wizarding lines met as equals on the matter, Draco flicked his wand at the box on the table. It floated to Ginny, who smiled once more, waving James and Lily over to see their little statues.

Hermione stood perfectly still, hoping to maintain the delicate balance of all that was happening. Scorpius ignored her studiously, moving to stand behind James as he took his Patronus statue to the living room. Ginny and Lily sat at the table with theirs, watching them play together. Harry, Al, and Draco watched as their statues explored their new homes as well.

They would all settle down to supper soon enough, but in that moment, Hermione’s whole world was peacefully ensconced. A bubble of hope swelled inside of her, and she smiled to herself.


End file.
